


A Memory of Lips Pressed Against Mine

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name. Fusion, Child Neglect, Culture Shock, M/M, Magic, Out of Body Experiences, Romantic Comedy, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Memories and dreams are the same things- distant, profound, but eventually forgotten. Sure, you can remember a dream if you try hard enough, just like you can hold onto a cherished memory from years ago. But in the flow of time, you will forget.Simmons doesn't want to forget. Grif doesn't want to forget.Life is funny like that.





	1. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gift for someone I know on Instagram, who made this AU without having any idea that I've been waiting for _someone_ to propose it so that I can make something for it. Because I'm too lazy to do this on my own. 
> 
> I just wanna say in advance that there's gonna be a lot of bullshitting on my part for certain things in this fic. I do this _only_ because a lot of the essential elements in the movie are a fucking pain to mimic, and I'm trying my best to make it work in the setting of the AU without seeming _too_ improbable. 
> 
> Without bothering to talk about how my Beta doesn't love me anymore, I present to you this super fucking long fic! I hope you all enjoy!

_ Every so often, Simmons wakes up crying. _

_ He doesn't jolt out of bed from a nightmare or gasp for air at the demons his brain conjures in the night. He simply wakes up and feels tears sliding down his cheeks, with no memory as to why. _

_ Sometimes, he feels like he's forgetting something. Often, like he's forgetting someone. _

_ But that's ridiculous. Everyone he has ever known is within a short car ride, within walking distance even. A simple phone call away. _

_ And yet, inexplicably. _

_ There is this longing in his heart, in his soul, and in his memories that even if he can't remember a single thing, the pain in his chest tells all that he needs to know. _

_ What the brain forgets, the heart remembers. _

_ And who his heart wants is- _

* * *

Waking up for Simmons is an experience. The first thing that comes into awareness, is that it's hot. Uncomfortably hot. Which makes no sense, even as he turns in his bed, trying to shift onto a cooler part of it that simply does not exist. His room was never  _ this _ hot.

Almost distantly, he can hear the humming and thumping of what could only be an old and probably broken air conditioner, the rattling sounds of the clearly dying machine waking him up further. 

His parents would never buy anything not top of the line, so where the hell did it come from? Further, why the hell was it on in the first place? It was the middle of  _ fall, _ the last thing his apartment needed was to get  _ colder. _

Sitting up, he groaned as his back arched, eyes squinting in the poorly lit room. In the grogginess of having just woken up, he doesn't take in any of his surroundings. He doesn't take in the stained and ratty wool blanket, nor the lumpy mattress. 

Nor does he look and realize that the room is much more spacious and empty than his own room. He unintentionally ignores the ukulele propped up against the wall, and the door that simply doesn't exist. The windows are blocked by a curtain, only some beams of light creeping in.

Taking off the blanket, he turned to sit on the side of the bed, and somehow-  _ somehow _ he fucked this up because the next thing he knew, his feet were slamming harshly against the floor. 

"What the fuck..." he mumbled, staring at the floor and then at his bed. When the hell did his bed get replaced? And why was it much lower to the ground- hell, it was practically  _ on _ the ground!

Stumbling out of the bed, he felt weird- like his balance was off. 

And now he was much more aware that something was certainly  _ off _ he stumbled around looking for- fuck if he knew what he was looking for.

As he was heading towards the windows to pull the curtains open, to let more light into the room, he passed by a dirty and somewhat cracked mirror. 

A mirror that was certainly broken somehow, because the reflection he saw  _ wrong. _

_ "What the FUCK?!" _ he shouted, fully awake and now able to take in his surroundings.

Somehow, in some inconceivable way, he had been transformed into an overweight darker skin guy who fucking had a  _ faint scar- what the fuck- _ slashed across his eye. And somehow he was no longer in his room  _ at all, _ instead, he was in a much dingier and poorer room.

Then, in the middle of his freak out, a curly-haired little girl popped her head around into the room, yelling with a bright grin on her face, "Shut UP, Dex!"

And the only thought that he could think was,  _ "Who the fuck is Dex?" _

"Breakfast is ready, so hurry up, this is  _ my _ room too," she stuck her tongue out at him. "And you take so  _ long _ to get ready in the morning."

Without waiting for a response she bounded away from the entryway, leaving Simmons in his pure unadulterated befuddlement.

Something weird was going on. Nothing that had happened since he woke up made  _ any _ sense.

Wait-

_ Woken up. _

That was it- it had to be it. Nothing else could possibly make any sense.

He hadn't woken up. Simple.

He was obviously still dreaming. A really, really weird and realistic dream, sure, but a dream nonetheless.

At having an answer to why everything went fucking Freaky Friday on him, he felt the tension leave the shoulders on his new body.

This might be the weirdest dream he's ever had, but might as well just go along with it. He could laugh about it in the morning.

* * *

Walking into the kitchen, Grif yawned and raised his arms above his head as he stretched.

He sat down lethargically at the table, resting his face into his palm as he watched his sister munch happily on her off-brand sugar-filled cereal.

"Good morning, Dex," she spoke through a mouthful of food.

"Swallow first," he rolled his eyes, getting up to get a bowl and spoon for himself. As he reached for the cupboard, he heard Kai giggle behind his back. Looking back at her, she diverted her attention away from him, as if she were laughing at literally anything else.

Beyond giving her the stink eye, he continued with what he was doing, and swiftly snatched one of the few chipped bowls they owned.

Settling it against the uneven table, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and grabbed the cereal box with his other hand, pouring it into the bowl without caring if any split onto the table. 

It's as he's grabbing the milk that he sees the shit-eating grin on his sister's face, and he decides to give in by asking, "What the fuck has you so happy this morning?"

"Oh you know," she rolled her eyes around the room, moving her body with the action. "Just surprised you remembered where the kitchen-ware was this morning."

Blinking at her response, he almost caused the milk to overflow from his bowl, swiftly catching himself and adjusting the cartoon so that he could cap it. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Don't act like you don't remember," she teased. "You totally had a stroke or something!"

"Ok, well now you're just being ridiculous," he said.

"Nuh-uh!" Kai shook her head. Holding out her hand, she started listing with her fingers, "First you yelled so early in the morning like a wacko! Then you actually made your bed, and took a shower! Which is like, you already took your shower for the week two days ago, so it was totally strange! And then you forgot where to find the dishes-"

"And now I know you're making this all up," he cut her off. "None of that happened. I'd remember if it did."

"If you say so, bro," she didn't sound convinced in the slightest. "Hurry up and finish eating, you might not care about being late to school, but I do."

"Don't rush me, I'll just go extra slow now," but despite this, he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth.

Kai got up from the table and threw her bowl in the sink, the plastic of the kid's bowl bouncing safely. That little drama queen.

He finished his breakfast as quickly as he could whilst still savoring it. Unlike Kai, he gently placed the bowl into the sink, not wanting to fuck it up any further. 

Having already gotten dressed, he grabbed his schoolbag, not that he ever did any work, and waited at the door to their shitty house for Kai to come gamboling up to him.

Seeing that she was all set, he opened the door and headed towards his car. Unlocking the vehicle he slid in and watched as Kai put on her seat belt. The last thing he needed was for her to argue forever about not wanting to put it on.

As he normally did, he drove her to the elementary school, to which she smugly said, "You forgot how to drive yesterday too," not that he acknowledged that comment.

Having arrived, he glared at her before telling her to, "Get out."

"Have fun at school," she chimed. "Don't forget where you go either."

Before he could snap at her for continuing the same joke, she slid out of the car and skipped to the entrance of the school, meeting up with a couple of her friends and chatting excitedly with them, not that he could hear what they were saying.

Ugh, fifth graders.

As he made his way to his school, a part of his brain latched onto those stupid comments that Kai had been making. Obviously, she was just being an annoying brat like usual, but something felt different.

When he stopped at a red light, he pulled out his phone and saw that it was Thursday.

It should have been  _ Wednesday. _ He's stupid, but not stupid enough to not know what day of the week it was.

Had he really blacked out for a whole day?

Part of him worried that maybe he had gotten drunk, or at least, did  _ something _ to cause him to lose an entire day. But he didn't remember cracking open any bottles of alcohol on Tuesday or popping any sort of pills either.

This day couldn't possibly get any more confusing.

* * *

Having parked his car in the senior parking lot, he shuffled towards his locker.

Lo and behold, the two assholes he called friends were waiting for him by it.

"Yo Grif," Tucker called out to him, a strange look in his eyes. "How are you, man?"

Looking at him suspiciously, Grif opened his padlock, putting in the combination almost mindlessly.

"I'm good," he answered.  _ "Why?" _

"No reason, no reason," Tucker leaned back on the heels of feet. "So, are you in a more generous mood?"

"In a more  _ what," _ ok now he was confused.

"He's talking about whatever psychedelic you took yesterday," Church butted in, crossing his arms. "He hasn't stopped bitching about wanting to get his hands on some of it."

So maybe it wasn't just Kai fucking with him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged. "I don't remember taking anything on Tuesday."

"Interesting word choice," Tucker said. "Are you trying to say you don't remember  _ anything _ about yesterday?"

"Got it in one, dumbass," closing his locker after dumping his notebooks in it, he leaned against it so that he could properly face both of his friends. "Even if I wanted to share- which I never would with you, because you're depressing when high, Tucker- I honestly didn't take anything. I doubt there's any in the house."

"So your mom's not home- OW," Tucker cradled his arm away from Church who had harshly elbowed it.

"No," and like that his whole mood soured. "She's not home."

And like a light switch, the two others got more serious, with Tucker's eyebrows knitting together as he asked, "This has been, what, the fifth week?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "And now I've taken more hours at the center. After school, I have to immediately leave for my shift, so I can't stay and hang around for you guys to finish coding club."

"What?" Tucker's jaw dropped. "Dude, I thought you only worked there on Saturday's."

"You told them that you're a student, right?" Church added on.

"No, they know, but," they also knew that he was the only one providing a stable income for himself and his sister. Thank god he was eighteen, being recognized as a legal adult come with some perks, such as not getting child protective services called. Although, the higher-ups always mentioned that he was on thin ice on what he could get away with.

Jokes on them, he had no plans to go to college. So long as he continued saving enough emergency money he's sure that he'd be able to defend his taking care of Kai. Maybe, well, hopefully at the very least. 

"It's complicated," he said in lieu of an excuse.

"You know the offer to stay with me and my folks is always open," Tucker said.

"No thanks, we're fine," he lied, because there was no way in hell the way that they were living could ever fall under 'fine.'

They'd get through it, they always would. Eventually, mom would come back, with some cheap gift or other as if that'd make everything better.

He couldn't wait to graduate and move out, taking Kai with him. Working full time, only needing to worry about his sister's education and not his own- that was the plan.

As if sensing his hatred of learning, it was then that the morning bell rang, causing all three of the teenagers to groan.

"See you guys at lunch," Tucker said, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. 

"Come on," Church said, gesturing toward the staircase. "In case you forgot, like yesterday, we have English together first."

"You know, I'm getting really sick of that joke," Grif muttered, following his friends up the staircase.

* * *

It was by the time that he got to precalculus that he figured that he must have gotten possessed or something. 

Because no amount of drugs or alcohol could possibly ever cause his teacher to call on him to answer the problem on the board with a smile on her face.

"Uh," his eyes darted towards the board, and then at the 'notes' that he took. "Forty-two?"

"Nice try, Dexter," his teacher smiled at him. "But we're talking about derivatives at the moment. You seemed to understand it so well yesterday, was the homework too difficult?"

The homework that was somehow both done  _ and _ had all the correct answers on it? Yeah, no.

"No, just... having a bad day today?" he tried, not sure if it would work.

"Not as bad of a day as yesterday," he heard one of his classmates mutter under her breath, causing her friends to giggle.

"Well, I'd say, at least today you've remembered your name," his teacher gave him one last smile before going through the problem herself, recognizing that she wouldn't get any sort of answer out of him.

What the actual fuck.

Sneaking a glance at his empty notebook page, a suspicion entered his head as he turned the previous page back, looking down at the pristine notes jotted down.

This wasn't the handwriting of  _ anyone _ that he knew, not even Church's handwriting could come even near as neat as this. But at the very bottom of the page, written away from the course work, was a message.

_ 'Who the fuck are you? And why are you so goddamn stupid.' _

* * *

"Tell me everything about what happened yesterday," he demanded of his friends as soon as he got to their usual hangout spot off-campus during their lunch period.

Grif has officially become pissed  _ off. _ Normally, he'd like to think of himself as a pretty chill guy, but he doesn't like the idea of not remembering an entire day.

And he certainly didn't like the idea of becoming even more of a laughing stock at school of all fucking places. Wasn't it enough to hear snide comments on the streets due to his mother's 'profession?'

Looking at each other, Tucker swallowed the food in his mouth while Church adjusted his glasses.

"Like how?" Church asked.

"How was I  _ acting," _ his patience officially tested. He wanted to get to the bottom of this  _ now. _

"Well," Tucker trailed off. "You weren't acting like... yourself. At first, we thought you were just high out of your mind..."

"But now I'm starting to think that something else happened," Church leaned closer towards his face. "Thinking back on it, you haven't shown any signs of someone who's taken any sort of substance-  _ whether they remember it or not," _ he said, seeing how Grif was primed and ready to interrupt him.

"That's the only explanation that makes sense though," Tucker argued, and apparently this was something that had been discussing already. "I mean, there's no way Grif could just become a totally different person overnight  _ for no reason." _

"Unless I was possessed," Grif piped up.

"Ghosts aren't real," Church snapped. "I don't care what you think, it's scientifically impossible."

"So then what's your explanation for how Grif became a totally new person yesterday?" Tucker challenged.

"Maybe he developed some form of split personality overnight?" Church didn't seem convinced by what he was saying. "Something like that would make a lot more sense anyhow."

"I don't think it works like that," Grif sighed, leaning against his fist, all fire burned out of him quickly.

"Yo, Church, you think I can sleep over your house tonight?" Tucker asked. "My mom's going to be busy all night on the docks and she doesn't want me home alone. Apparently there are some issues going on. Too many boats or something stupid like that."

"Sure thing," Church nodded, pulling out his phone. "I'll let Carolina know, she's going to want to know you're coming over."

While his two friends moved on from the topic, he didn't bother to listen. He had way too many things to think about- those mysterious notes, for one.

But also how he was going to have to ignore all of his homework tonight, he'd be getting home pretty late. He'd rather sleep than waste his time on something that wouldn't even matter in the end.

God, his life was pretty shitty, wasn't it? What he wouldn't give to be someone else.

* * *

There's nothing inherently wrong with working for the Polynesian Cultural Center, at least, in Grif's opinion. 

Is it meant for tourists first and foremost? Yeah, but what wasn't in O'ahu? That's just how things were.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

The job that he  _ wanted _ was to work some sort of concession stand or any of the customer service positions. He didn't doubt that it would be absolutely hell, with self-entitled assholes galore, but it was a job where he could maintain what little dignity he had left.

Instead, the only job opening that he could apply for was as a  _ dancer. _

But beggars couldn't be fucking choosers, but they certainly could bitch and whine and moan about shitty luck.

As far as he could tell, the other troupe members didn't hold the same opinions as he does, or at the very least they hid it very well.

He couldn't fathom  _ how _ though. Grif felt like such an idiot every time he had to get up on the stage to teach the excited tourists how to do a simple hula dance. It was embarrassing, but he had to play the part of 'happy to help!' or else he'd get the ax. 

At least the act was only twenty minutes long, with designated performance times. 

And they didn't mind when he brought Kai along with him, with only some cost towards his paycheck of course, but he could make do.

But since he had primarily worked on days when he  _ didn't _ have school, this was the first time that he had to pick Kai up after school ended and drive to the center instead of heading home. 

She knew the way to the Islands of Hawai'i section of the center, so while he went to change into his garb for the routine, she sat herself down on one of the benches and started her homework.

While he technically couldn't mingle around the stage to help her out with it, he did manage to sneak a couple of glances while waiting for the performance to start.

Some of the tourists gave her a funny look at first glance, after all, they must have assumed she was there as an attendee and not the sister of one of the workers. But since they were on vacation, they didn't pay her any further mind.

At least Kai always seemed to get excited without fail despite seeing the performance enough times to get bored of it. She even participated alongside the audience, several of his co-workers called her their trainee, as if she would work here when she was older. 

Truthfully he didn't know, she might get tired of the same old thing soon, but as of now, she's only ten and easily entertained. Thank God for small miracles.

But the part that he really didn't enjoy about his job was the evening performance. It was just... a lot. And he wasn't the type of guy who liked things that got too intense. But he sucked it up. 

He'd never admit it, but all the smoke and fire caused him to get nauseous, the bright lights causing a pounding headache that would leave until he passed out from exhaustion. He'd feel so gross and grimy by the end of it that he'd feel  _ compelled _ to take a shower, and for that, he didn't think he could forgive the damn thing.

This evening was no different. The show, as usual, started at seven-thirty and ended at nine. But the interim wait for all of the attendees to leave the center took near forever.  _ Then _ he was able to leave, having to lead Kai along on her tired feet, gripping her hand softly as he led her to the car.

Kids needed to go to sleep much earlier than after ten, but he couldn't chance to leave her at home alone.

So settling her into the back of his car, he buckled her up and thought she'd just fall asleep on the ride home.

But that was not to be as her groggy voice piped up, "Dex?"

Looking at her from the rearview mirror, he saw the way she was slumped against the window, watching the world pass by as they drove.

"Kai, you should try and go to sleep," he scolded.

"'m not tired," she claimed despite being interrupted by a yawn. "Dex how come you don't talk about our culture?"

That threw him for such a shock as he was only able to utter out a, "Huh?"

Shaking his head slightly, he clarified, "What are you talking about?"

"You know," she lifted one of her arms before letting it fall back onto her lap, clearly too tired to try. "Teachings and stuff."

"Are you asking why we don't go to church?" he tried to understand what she was getting at. "Kai, you know I don't believe in all that-"

"No," she shook her head. "Not religion- or at least, not  _ that _ religion."

"Oh," now he was kinda getting at what she was asking. 

"Is it because mom's never home, so she never has a chance to tell us things?" Kai asked innocently.

No, it was because their mother probably didn't give a rat's damn about beliefs of that nature, and certainly didn't care to tell either of them what little she did know. 

There was this disconnect, and he's known it for years. He was just sad that now Kai was old enough to realize it too. He had gotten lucky, he was around long enough to have met their grandfather, and though he distantly remembered the stories and myths the man shared with him, he had died a few years after Kai was born. 

Maybe he should try to make an effort to help her connect with their history. 

But for now, he had nothing to say, nothing to tell but half-remembered legends that he used to tell her as bedtime stories. 

He couldn't give her what she wanted, and she must have known this because she fell quiet and didn't ask him anything else.

Yes, he'd love to be anyone else in life. Anyone but himself would do.

* * *

When Grif wakes up, it's a slow and grueling process. He has no shame in saying that he covets those few minutes after his alarm goes off, being a true believer that a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. 

But the feeling of cool air against his skin is enough to get him to wake up, grunting slightly as he scrunches his eyes close. The pillow is so cool against his face, and the covers so soft that he wants to pull them closer to himself. 

_ Wait. _

Opening his eyes slowly, he mumbles out,  _ "What the fuck?" _ thinking that his mind must be playing tricks on him again. As he shifts upwards, he feels off-balance, lankier even which makes no goddamn sense.

"Why do I feel so..." he mutters, eyes roaming around the room, taking notice of the wooden dresser and desk towards the side of the room. 

But then his eyes make contact with a long vertical mirror attached to the wall and it takes everything in his will power not to freak out.

He's suddenly white now, and ginger,  _ and skinny, and- _

He lifts his arm and in morbid horror watches as the reflection mimics the action, confirming that that's really  _ him _ and he's can't help but let out a horrified, "What the  _ fuck." _

No one answers his question, and if the bed wasn't so comfy, he'd jump out of it, but he also has a feeling that this new body of his would be hard to maneuver with as lanky as it is.

This gave him a few minutes to gather his thoughts and think.

Yesterday all he wanted was to suddenly be somebody else. And now here he was, in a body that was probably his antithesis. 

So unless magic was suddenly a thing, and he very much doubted this, this was probably just a dream. 

And that was something he could deal with. 

Marginally.

Hearing his dream phone buzz, he looks and sees a message from some poor soul named  _ Donut. _

Which confirmed that this was a dream. He highly doubted that anyone would be named after a snack.

The message worriedly asked if he was sick or something, because apparently dream him was late for school. 

Seriously? He still had to go to school even  _ in _ his dreams? That's some bullshit.

But, considering that he was pretty sure that he was lucid dreaming at this point, he realized he could just 'cut.' 

There'd be no repercussions for him anyhow if he decided to do so.

Then again, it seemed like dream him was a bit of a nerd, given all the fucking books in this room.

Looked like he was going to school then, ugh.

Getting out of the bed, regretting it almost immediately, not because of the way his knees buckled and he almost tripped unaccustomed to the body, but because of that innate feeling of not knowing what you have until it's gone.

That was probably the most comfortable bed he's  _ ever _ slept in. Almost made him want to go with his skipping school plan altogether.

But he was already up, he might as well keep it that way. 

Heading towards the dresser, he almost opened it to get something to wear when he noticed a school uniform hanging up by the closet.

_ No. _

He couldn't believe it, his dream was going to force him into going to a school that requires  _ uniforms. _

Grif maintains the fact that this was the worst dream ever. Bed be damned.

Might as well get changed and figure out where the hell he was supposed to go. In fact, he didn't even think his dream was taking place in Hawai'i.

Grabbing the hanger with the uniform, he peered out the window and looked at all the skyscrapers and cars and taxis creating traffic the streets.

If he had to make a guess, apparently his dream decided that New York City was the perfect setting. He doesn't even think he's seen New York outside of movies, so he's not too sure if he recognizes the area all too well.

Whatever, it was just a dream after all.

* * *

So Grif had to take back what he said about the only good thing in the dream is the bed. It turns out that the food that his dream parents had left for him was really,  _ really _ good. Or, perhaps it wasn't so much that the parents prepared it, and more some sort of staff.

The apartment looked pretty expensive, he wouldn't be surprised if he was rich in this dream.

He had also figured out how to get to his school. He would have worried- well not worried, more like been annoyed- of not knowing the class schedule, but it turns out this nerd had his schedule printed out and slipped between the plastic of his binder. 

What was really shocking was that despite this dream him being a junior, he somehow had all the same classes as not dream him. Which meant either the schools in New York taught the courses differently, or this little shit was some sort of accelerated know-it-all.

Maybe a bit of both. Definitely a bit of both.

While he might have attended the classes, that absolutely did not mean he was going to participate in the slightest. This shit was challenging in the real world, no way was he going to be bothered with it while he was asleep. That's the line he would draw in the metaphorical sand.

Apparently, this was out of character or whatever for whoever he was meant to be in this dream, as when the teachers question was left unanswered, with no one raising their hands, a few of his dream peers would look at him with pure desperation as if he would save them from getting randomly called on. To that, he says  _ hell no. _ Whimper and weep, bitches.

When it finally came to the lunch period, he was excited to see what he could possibly get to eat with the wallet filled with cash that dream him had. He couldn't wait to see what type of food they had in New York-

"Hey, Simmons!" a voice called out to the hallway. Considering that it wasn't his name, he continued walking, not paying it a single mind. "Hey! Wait up!"

A hand grabs at his shoulder, shocking him into wrenching it out of the strangers grasp. The stranger seemed shocked at his reaction but takes it in stride as he tries to catch his breath.

"Why didn't you slow down buddy?" he asked between inhales. "I was calling out to you multiple times."

Roaming his eyes over the kid, he notes the soft blond hair that matched with his mint-colored eyes. 

He'd probably trip someone like this in the hallways of his school in the real world.

And he'd much rather do anything else than spend his dream talking to someone like him.

"Yeah, no," he says, turning away and coming face to face with a wall of pure muscle.

Taking a step back, he looks up to see the brightly grinning face of someone who absolutely couldn't be described as anything other than a  _ jock _ beaming down at him.

"Simmons, I did not think you would come today!" he greeted, sweeping him up into a bone-crushing hug that had him wheezing for air. "I am so glad to see you!"

"Aw," the blond said, clasping his hands together. "See Simmons, Caboose missed you too!"

The so-called Caboose- which must make the other kid  _ Donut _ if his deduction skills were anything to go by- let him go and Grif fucking stumbled, still too new to the body and feeling like he was made of fucking jello due to the hug.

In his moment of  _ weakness, _ the two boys preyed upon him, each grabbing one of his arms to drag him  _ against his will _ to have lunch with them.

Instead of making his wallet weep, his pride was weeping from having to hang out with whoever the fuck these two were.

* * *

It seemed like there was no escaping Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and he spends the majority of his lunch listening to this 'Donut' go on and on about some 'drama' that occurred during play practice.

Whereas 'Caboose' would nod his head in what Grif thought was understanding at first, until he realized that he was as dumb as a bag of fucking rocks, certainly living up to the idiot jock stereotype. Whereas Hamlet couldn't contain his exuberance and acted just as annoying as the drama students he knew in real life.

He hardly got to eat  _ anything _ during his lunch period, and for that, he hadn't the two annoying ass figments of his imagination that his dream decided to conjure up.

The only thing he deemed them useful for was telling him that apparently, he had a job and that his shift was after school.

This must be his punishment for complaining about the extra hours he took upon himself because now he even had to work in his  _ dreams. _ The one place he thought he could escape from the world.

Was there ever a moment where Dexter Grif did not suffer? The jury's still out on that one. 

If this dream-nerd-him also was a dancer, he would find some way to wake up, no matter what hour of the night or day it would be.

But luckily, he was a waiter for some sort of restaurant in this dream. Which at first thought sounds like it  _ should _ be easy. Just write down the orders, bring the people their food and drinks, and occasionally check in on them to butter them up into buying something more. 

Apparently... it was a lot more stressful than that.

Now, Grif's had a lot of people yelling at him in the meager amount of years that he's been alive. But it's always been people cursing his mom out, or telling him that they're disappointed in him, or some other crap.

He's never really been put in a situation as stressful as just  _ giving people fucking plates with food on it, what the fuck. _

This whole experience has been humbling, it truly has, and he's grown a newfound respect for servers, to say the least. If he remembers this whole thing, he'd reflect this in the real world.

But he doubted that he'd remember anything. That's just how dreams worked.

Apparently, he was so shitty at his dream job that the fucking  _ manager _ pulled him aside during closing hours to ask him what the fuck was wrong with him.

"I expect better of you, soldier!" the man scolded him, his voice gruff and enough to make Grif want to tear his hair out. "If you keep this up, I don't know what we're gonna do with you!"

At this point, Grif is so fed up with getting harangued even in his dreams, that his filter practically vanishes into the wind when he says, "Could relax for one fucking second? I've been having a pretty shitty day and I don't need  _ you _ making it worse."

The man's eyebrows raised sharply, and his steel-grey eyes looked at him deeply, probably noticing the slump to his shoulders and the near-dead look in his eyes.

Slowly, his expression changes to that of a sympathetic one as he says, "If the hours are too much, we can adjust them for you, son."

From Grif's experience, that's always a bad sign, if you take the offer you start getting less and fewer hours until, uh oh! Looks like they'd have to let you go, really it's nothing he did wrong, no of course not.

So he just says, "No it's fine... just things at home."

He could vent to this dream manager guy about real-world problems, right? There'd be no consequences after all.

It's at that sentence that the demeanor of the man truly changes, and Grif doesn't know why.

The man looks like he's struggling to say something, eventually deciding to say, "You can head home early today, Richard. Get some rest."

Not wanting to argue, and wanting this dream to be over with as fast as possible, Grif doesn't argue with the man and begins his trek back to wherever the fuck he came from in the morning.

He supposes it's the tiredness from having to essentially go through a full day of life before even  _ waking up _ but Grif doesn't even notice that he's made it back to the nice, rich apartment complex until he's standing outside the doors to the apartment itself.

Getting the key that he used this morning, he enters the apartment, noticing that none of the lights were on. In fact, no one besides himself was home.

Which meant that he probably didn't have any dream parents, par for the course considering this was how it was in the real world anyhow.

Stumbling to his room, he strips off the uniform and tossing the articles of clothing to the floor, perfectly content to just slip on a random shirt from the dresser to constitute pajamas.

Looking at the bed, he's dismayed to see that sometime during the day, someone had come in and made it all tidy.

So definitely some sort of staff who took care of the apartment. They were probably the ones to make that breakfast earlier.

Settling down on the bed for a few moments, not quite ready to turn in yet, he snoops through his phone- a very expensive model at that, he hardly recognized the design- seeing little to no social media accounts, but noticing that there was some sort of diary app.

Opening it up, he looks at the maroon colored entries, organized in specific folders for each day, and rolls his eyes at how nerdy this version of him seemed to be. Who the hell kept a journal anymore anyways?

For pure shits and giggles, he decides to make an entry of his own, coloring it orange because seriously maroon? Orange was obviously a much more lively color.

Becoming satisfied- more like dissatisfied- with the contents of the phone, he figures that it's probably time to end the dream once and for all.

As he shuffles through the drawers, his eyes are drawn to a wooden turtle necklace on the top of the dresser.

Pausing in his search, he reached for the necklace, picking it up and examining it. 

He recognized the design, if only vaguely from his memories of his grandfather.

It was a Honu. A symbol of good luck and wisdom.

Maybe this was the way his subconscious was trying to apologize for the shitty hand in life. Trying to make it up for him by sending him this as a message.

At least it looked like dream him had a good luck charm.

Settling down the necklace, his eyes are drawn to an open notebook on the desk nearby.

Had he opened any of his notebook's during the day, maybe he'd have seen or recognized this sooner. But he couldn't believe his eyes because-

_ 'Who the fuck are you? And why are you so goddamn stupid.' _

He recognized that handwriting.

Maybe he wasn't dreaming after all. Or maybe he was, he couldn't be sure, dreams were tricky like that.

Still...

Looking around the desk for some sort of marker, he found one and swiftly uncapped it. 

Opening his palm, he wrote down as best he could without the marker bleeding or smudging-

_ Grif. _

There. An answer to a question verbally unasked.

* * *

There's a name on his hand. Written in marker.

Needless to say, Simmons is confused as all  _ hell _ when he wakes up.

But that's the thing about it. He feels like he recognizes the handwriting. Which doesn't make any sense, because well, first off who the hell came into his room in the middle of the night to write this on his hand? Secondly, who would even do that, like- what would be the point of it? 

He's certainly never met anyone named Grif. It doesn't even sound like a real name!

He scrubs it off as best he can, but even still it leaves leftover marks on his palm. And now he would have to deal with this all day, looking at the smudges on his hand, royally pissed off that he can't get it off. And there was no way in hell that he was going to even  _ enter _ the bathrooms at his school to wash it off.

Simmons would much rather  _ die. _

But he wasn't going to waste any more time dealing with the- the graffiti on his hand. He had to take a shower, and comb his hair, and  _ put on his uniform! _

And maybe have breakfast with his parents. If they were home.

But he doubted that they were, last they told him they were going to get home last night from their business trip. Likely it got extended. Again.

And after showering and toweling his hair, he peeked his head out to view the kitchen and saw a solitary plate with food on it.

Of course. Why did he expect anything else?

* * *

His arrival to school is impeccable as always, and he doesn't waste any time putting away the folders and binders that he wouldn't need for the first few periods of the day into his locker. 

Having what he needed for his first-period class, he heads there despite the morning bell having not yet rung. 

Because he was the  _ perfect _ student. And getting to class early meant he wouldn't have to move past other people in their seats.  _ That _ could lead to the possibility of him bumping into people and embarrassing himself.

So, sliding into his seat, he pulled out his folder at got out the homework from last night, that he, of course, did at the end of class yesterday. Predictably he would do the same today, and if not, then he would do it during his study hall.

Looking up at the board, he sees that the date's wrong. He debated over whether to correct the teacher or not on this. On one hand, the teacher is always right, that's what his father tells him- just go along with whatever's going to be on the test as there's no use arguing otherwise- but on the other hand, things like that really got under his skin, so  _ really he should correct- _

"Ah, I see you have the missing homework from yesterday, Richard," without his notice, his teacher had appeared beside his desk, with an unamused look on his face. "I was very surprised when you didn't hand this in yesterday, and you're lucky I know that you're a very good student otherwise I wouldn't have let you hand it in late."

"What?" he's confused, and that never happens because he's always aware of everything that's going on at  _ all times _ when it came to school.

His math teacher didn't seem to notice his confusion, as he merely took the assignment and put it in his collected homework folder.

"And what of the work that's due today?" the teacher asked.

At what  _ Simmons _ interpreted as an order, he scrambled to look through his folders, coming across a practically blank homework sheet. The teacher's eyes saw the assignment and sighed.

Pulling out his planner, he made a note in Simmons section, explaining to him, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you half-credit due to it being incomplete. If you want to make up the work, you can come to me after school for extra help tomorrow."

With that, he walked away and back to his desk, leaving Simmons in a state of near-catatonic shock at what had just occurred.

He's never gotten half-credit. He's  _ never _ missed an assignment, never  _ ever _ in all his years of education.

Simmons slumps backward in his seat, letting out a small whine.

What the hell was going on?! First the name on his hand, now somehow missing a whole day which has caused him to get an  _ incomplete homework assignment mark on his record?! _

Hopefully, this day wouldn't get worse.

* * *

It was worse. It got  _ so much worse. _

As if following a pattern, the same thing happened in  _ every single one of his classes. _

Missing homework, incomplete homework, disapproval from  _ every face that he could possibly see- _

It was enough to make him want to find some sanitary corner to curl up in a ball and cry. Or die. He'd much rather die than live with the fact that his beautiful, perfect homework reputation was ruined.

Glumly he walked towards his and Donut's and Caboose's lunch spot, and with every step, he wished that the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. 

At least he wouldn't have to deal with his parent's disapproval if they ever caught wind of this. Hopefully, by attending extra help for each of his classes, he could make it up to the teachers. Maybe even help them clean their room or something-

"Simmons, you actually remembered where we normally eat today!" Donut called out to him cheekily. "And here I thought we'd have to chase you down again like yesterday!"

"Huh," he glanced between the two of them, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You must've been sick or something yesterday," Caboose says with a grin. "You came to school with your hair a total mess-"

"It was definitely bed head," Donut chimed in.

This didn't deter Caboose in the slightest, "-and you smelled weird and were sweaty-"

"Most certainly you did  _ not _ put on deodorant," Donut's nose scrunched up at the thought of it. "I suppose the musky smell can work for some people, but you're no fox. Which isn't to say you're not  _ foxy-" _

"Wait, wait," he held up his hands interrupting the two of them. "What are you guys going on about?"

"You know," Donut rolled his hands. "Yesterday? You were totally zoned out the whole day."

"Did anything else weird happen?" he asked, the pit in his stomach not disappearing at all. Something strange was going on and he absolutely had to figure out what the  _ fuck _ it was so it wouldn't mess with his studies.

"Besides you trying your best to ignore us?" Donut asked before shrugging. "Not too sure, you went immediately to work after school."

Oh no.

* * *

Walking into work for his shift he is filled with such intense anxiety that he could have melted where he stood from how hard he was shaking.

If he somehow said or did anything yesterday that could get him fired he'd pass out for  _ sure. _

And as he works, he watches nervously from the corners of his eyes the way that his fellow waiters were watching him carefully, as if he would mess up the orders. 

The chefs eyed him in suspicion as if he thought that he'd do something with the food.

And from afar he watched as Sarge watched  _ him, _ his expression unreadable.

All of this made him a nervous  _ wreck. _

But he got through his shift with little to no problems, but of course he did he was on his absolute best behavior- which isn't to say that he wasn't  _ usually _ on his best behavior, he was just trying extra hard tonight.

Clean up was going off without a cinch when they closed the restaurant. He was  _ almost _ out of the door when he heard someone cough into their hand behind him.

Turning around, his anxiety fucking spikes when he sees that it's Sarge.

Please don't say that you're firing him, please don't say that you're firing him,  _ please don't say that you're firing him- _

"I've noticed that you don't seem to be doing much better today," he commented, eyeing the young teenager. "Doesn't make me have much confidence in what you said the other day."

"Ah, well, I apologize for whatever it was that I said yesterday, sir!" he hurriedly said. "I just-"

Holding up a hand, he silences his near groveling, saying, "Don't apologize for saying anything wrong. Your parents are out of town, aren't they?"

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, his eyes dart to the side, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

"Yes," he admits. 

The older man sighed, one hand going up to caress the back of his neck, while the other dug into his pants pocket.

"No wonder you snapped at me the other day," Sarge said. "Here, take this."

His hand pulled out his pocket, holding onto a small slip of paper.

Taking it cautiously, Simmons looked at it to see a string of numbers written down.

He's a smart kid, he knows that this is a phone number.

"Sir?" he wanted to elaborate more, but the words just didn't want to flow out of his mouth.

"I don't want you to be on your lonesome, a kid needs an adult there to help if things go sideways," the man explained. "Don't feel like you can't rely on me just because I'm your manager. You're a good kid, Richard."

The man clapped him on his shoulder once, nearly making him collapse because his knees seemed to be made out of glass.

Without anything more, the man bid him a good night, returning to the back of the restaurant to finish closing up and leaving a stunned Simmons in his wake.

He had no idea how he was going to interpret any of this, so he went home in a daze.

He's never wanted to remember a day more in his  _ life. _

* * *

Simmons is pretty sure he's figured it out- figured  _ everything _ out.

_ Grif's pretty sure that he's figured out what the hell is going on exactly. _

Because falling back into the same routine, arriving at an empty home and swiftly heading to bed left Simmons time to take a look at his phone.

_ Turns out that when you remember a dream in pure clarity, even the handwriting that should have been fictitious, allows Grif to do something as simple as pulling out his hardly used notebooks. _

He'd have to be an  _ idiot _ to not notice the glaringly obnoxious orange-colored journal entry that Simmons certainly did  _ not _ write.

_ Grif would have to be an idiot to not look at the work that had suddenly appeared in his notebook in comparison to the things he had seen in his dream. _

Eyes taking in every word-

_ Memory firing at the sight of the notes- _

He suddenly understood what was happening-

_ All those dreams weren't just dreams- _

Which meant that Simmons-

_ That meant that Grif- _

Was actually  _ switching bodies _ with that  _ person?! _

* * *

That revelation alone was like the gateway to actually lead them to figure out how to fix everything.

It didn't make sense,  _ none _ of it did, but if they were going to make it through this, then they had to communicate  _ somehow. _

Writing notes on their bodies in pens for when they woke up, leaving journal entries in whatever form possible- Simmons had that app on his phone, but he was frustrated to find that Grif's phone was an older model that wasn't compatible with it, so he had to settle with something different- and a list of rules that they absolutely had to follow when in the other's body.

* * *

_ Rules for When in Richard Simmons' Body: _

_ First: under no circumstances was Grif allowed to ruin his grades, his marks, or his attendance. Even if he didn't understand the course work, homework had to be handed in despite whatever condition it might be in. _

_ Secondly: while in his body he absolutely had to take care of it, especially in terms of hygiene. While that slob wasn't bothered by not showering or washing his hair as often, Simmons' hair could get greasy as all hell overnight, and like fuck was he going to be known as the crackhead kid who didn't fucking showered. _

_ Thirdly: even if he was annoyed by Caboose and Donut, he couldn't ignore or give them the cold shoulder, because while they weren't his friends' they were certainly Simmons'. _

_ Fourthly: don't get him fucking fired! And don't fuck up his reputation with Sarge! _

* * *

_ Rules for when in Grif's body: _

_ One: don't fix his grades. Getting good grades when it's Simmons' in his body is all well and good, but that means that when Grif's in control again the teacher will start to expect things from him. And he absolutely refuses to keep up with their false expectations, no way no how. _

_ Two: take care of his body all he wants, it doesn't matter to Grif in the end, but above all else take care of Kaikaina. Don't leave her on her own, she's an idiot and is too young to take care of herself, no matter how much she argues otherwise. _

_ Three: on the off chance that he's in his body on one of the days when he's working, don't come in. Call in sick, trust him on this, Simmons would regret it otherwise. Under no circumstances go, not even if people bring up money. It's not that important. _

_ Four: don't open up the house door for anyone. Not even if the woman on the other side starts yelling or cursing out his name. Not even if she calls Simmons her son. _

* * *

"Oh, Dexter!" Grif's stopped on his way out of the classroom, and the eye twitch that he's started to develop due to a certain redhead appears.

Turning around to look at his teacher, he watches as she gestures to an essay that he doesn't remember taking.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm very proud of you," she said with a calculated smile. "Normally when a student who isn't as ambitious as their peer's hands in an essay of this high caliber, I know they cheated. But I watched as you wrote this in class last week, and let me tell you how happy I am that you're putting in more effort into the course."

He doesn't know what to say, because if she starts asking questions about the book, he doubts he'd be able to say anything considering he didn't  _ read the damn thin- _

"Your sympathetic take on Holden is very unusual, most kids in your generation tend to hate him automatically," she said looking down at the stapled papers. "I would love to know why your view on him is different than your peers, and by judging this essay, I know you paid close attention to the subtleties of the text. So, if you could elaborate in class tomorrow during our post-novel discussion that'd be splendid."

_ That fucker- _

* * *

"Oh, Richard!" Simmons nearly smacks into the lockers at the sound of a  _ feminine _ voice calling out to him.

Turning around nervously, he sees one of the varsity soccer players looking up at him with wide eyes and blush dusting across her cheeks.

_ No- _

"I just wanted to say that I thought about what you said yesterday," and here her blush increased, making her face nearly tomato red. "And I decided to take it to heart!"

_ Oh God, what did that bastard do- _

"Although your choice of words was cruel," her eyes narrowed and she huffed, before closing her eyes and placing her hands on her hips. "You're right."

"I- I am?" his voice cracked terribly, and he just wanted to vanish from this whole conversation. "I- I mean of- of course, I'm r-right."

"I'm done being a 'pussy,'" her eyes opened, and it felt like there was a fire burning in them from how determined she looked. "Instead I'm going to get some  _ actual _ pussy."

_ What- _

Without saying another word to him, she stormed up to one of the newspaper club photographers, slamming her hand against the locker next to her's.

"Katrina! I'm done hiding my feelings for you," she announced, catching the attention of all the bystanders. "I think you're awesome as fuck and I think I would actually die if you went out with me, but fuck if it's not worth it!"

The other girl looked at her in shock, before blushing furiously. 

In an instant, she swooped forward and grabbed the varsity girls shirt to pull her close for a deep and passionate kiss, breaking apart to say, "I've been waiting for you to confess for  _ years _ now."

Grabbing her hand, the newspaper girl pulled the varsity player further down the hallway, to do God knows what, but in a brief moment she looked back and gave Simmons a big thumbs up and a hearty grin.

_ WHAT- _

* * *

People were noticing him now, in ways that he didn't like or find comfortable. He absolutely  _ hated _ the attention that he was getting now.

Somehow through all this nonsense, through all the body-swapping shenanigans, he somehow went from being known as the son of the town floozy to being the kid who could act one way one day and another a different one.

Even Tucker and Church had started to notice, hiding their concern about it beneath jokes and scathing remarks.

Simmons and he were as different as night and day, there was no way they could pull this off without one of them becoming an outcast or something worse-

* * *

Instead of getting ignored due to his nerd status, Grif seemed to be doing him some good due to his relaxed attitude. When Grif was him, he didn't worry about trying to impress everyone, and rumors started to spread that Simmons him had finally grown a backbone , which in turn gained him some respect.

Students who wouldn't have interacted with him otherwise were coming up and talking to him nonchalantly, and that in turn helped boost his confidence ever so slightly, little by little.

Sure, Donut and Caboose noticed his change in attitude, but the former assumed that it was because he was growing as a person, and they both supported him through this strange phenomenon- even if they weren't aware of the body-switching.

Even his relationship with Sarge was starting to improve! He had always admired the man, but now because of Grif's confidence, and  _ meddling, _ the older man was taking up a mentor position in Simmons' life, giving him an adult role model that was both dependable and reliable!

They might have been complete opposites, but Simmons was absolutely sure that they would be able to pull this off-

* * *

When he wakes up to heat, Simmons knows instinctively that he's in the disheveled shack that the Grif's called home.

Normally, when he wakes up in Grif's body, the other teen's younger sister is already awake and active, but today she's resting on her side of the bed. That had been something he had to get used to during the first few swaps, but apparently, they didn't have the space or the money to afford another bed for the younger girl, and at the moment sharing a bed worked out well.

Simmons thought that when Grif went to college, he might dorm there, and then the room could become primarily Kai's.

While getting out of the bed with the plans to make some breakfast for the two of them with his meager and somewhat ok cooking skills, he frowns when he considers the living situation of his-

Well, he's not actually sure if he could call Grif a friend. He wants too! With all his heart really- but his heart betrays him sometimes with the way it stutters to a halt at the thought of the other teen.

He feels like he's grown closer to Grif this entire time, and he's gotten such a deep and personal view to his life, he probably knows things that most of the other people in his life don't.

And he can't help but try his best to fight the desire to figure out a way to send him money. He wants to help him out, he doesn't know how much longer he can watch the older teen struggle without any support!

Grif's been sorta helping him out, and Simmons wants to return the favor. 

He's finishing up the omelet he's making with the last few eggs when Kai stumbles out of her bed and lethargically settles down in her chair at the table.

"Dex, you have work today-" she yawns. "Right?"

Simmons stills.

Rule number three, he had them all memorized. 

_ Don't go to work while in his body. _

Not even if people mention money.

But he just had a look in the fridge, and those four eggs he used were some of the only things left in the appliance.

Grif was full of shit. Simmons wasn't gonna fuck him over in terms of money.

Besides, it wasn't fair that Grif had to work while being in Simmons, he might as well return the favor, right?

"Yeah," he nodded, setting down a paper plate in front of her, to which she greedily devoured the simple meal. Having no idea  _ where _ Grif worked- or  _ when _ even- he attempted to fish for information. "Should I pick you up at school like normal and drop you home before heading to work?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and with a mouthful of food, said, "It's Saturday, dummy."

Dammit. He should have checked Grif's phone before getting out of bed this morning.

"Of course, I knew that I was just- testing you is all," he tries to save face, and given the scrunched up expression of the younger girl, he doubts that she believes him.

"Whatever," she sticks her tongue at him, and he drops his shoulder in relief. "I'm excited to spend the day at the center today, one of my friends from school mentioned that she might come and play with me- she got her mom to agree to it!"

The center? Like, some sort of museum or something? Well, that'd be easy to do, certainly, Grif was just over-exaggerating about him not attending work in his place.

* * *

So.

In turns out, that when Kai said 'center' what she was short-handing was the Polynesian Cultural Center. 

Simmons has truthfully never heard of it before- in fact, he didn't know much about Hawai'i in general. He knew it was an island that constituted as a state, and that Pearl Harbor was stationed there, but beyond that he was clueless. This whole body swapping business had been very enlightening and exciting for him because it was a chance to experience a whole new environment without the costs that a vacation would bring.

So he's looking at everything with greedy eyes, having never seen anything like this before.

Some of the other workers and vendors were still setting up shop, and he didn't want to bother them, so he turned to Kai and asked, "Do you want to lead the way?" since he still didn't know what  _ exactly _ Grif did here.

"I don't know," she looked up at him with a petulant expression. "I usually just go and hang out at the stage while I wait for you to get in your costume."

Costume? Stage? Was Grif some sort of actor here? Maybe in some sort of educational play?

"Well, let's head there now," he said, under the guise of finding one of his co-workers to guide him to where he was supposed to change. "I wanna make sure you get there alright, it's still early."

"Psh, I've been here a hundred times by now, I think I know the way," she said, but she started walking towards the entrance of the main part of the center anyhow, not protesting when she followed him.

Looking around and getting drunk on the sites, Simmons passed by a bunch of informational signs and he couldn't help but stop and stare.

Reading in the information, they offered brief descriptions of the different sections of the parks and the people they represented, the Islands of Sāmoa, Aotearoa, Fiji, Hawai'i, Tonga, Tahiti, Marquesas, and Rapa Nui.

"Dex, what are you doing?" breaks him out of his perusal, with Kai tilting her head at his strange behavior. "No dilly-dallying!"

"Don't rush me," feels like something Grif would say in response to that.

With one last glance at the signs, his desire to visit Hawai'i in person so that he can spend more time reading and  _ learning _ more grows exponentially.

And this desire seems to  _ explode _ when he gets inside of the main park.

For a lack of a proper description, all he can think is that it's absolutely  _ beautiful. _ Lush greenery dominates everywhere, and the waterways soothe his nerves with its calming rustling as it flows.

All the traditional buildings that he passes by are so tempting to stay and admire them, their design filling him with awe, but he follows Grif's sister as she leads the way, crossing over bridges to get to her destination, the area designated the Village of Hawai'i.

His eyes are drawn to the large tree providing shade for an open and wall-less structure, the stage in clear view of the benches where he assumed visitors sat to watch.

People were already setting up speakers, and pulling out instruments like guitars and ukuleles, with wooden drums already set up. 

And  _ that's _ the exact moment that he realized that Grif was a dancer.

And not just any sort of dancer, he was a  _ hula dancer. _

_ Shit. _

No Grif's reasoning made clear and perfect sense. There was no way in  _ hell _ he would be able to bullshit this.

Kai must have sensed his shift in mood, because she looks at him in confusion, asking, "Dex, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"I-" he swallowed, having no idea what to say. Was it too late to leave and call in sick? It felt like it was too late to call in sick.

Suddenly, an already costumed worker came up to him, saying, "Dexter, there you are! Why aren't you dressed yet?"

"I don't think he remembers where to go," Kai looked up at the woman sweetly. "My brother is stupid like that, you're probably gonna have to show him where to go and where his costume is."

The older woman smiled at her, and said, "You're lucky you're adorable." 

Turning to him, she shook her head good-naturedly, before huffing and making a follow gesture, "Well if what our little trainee says is true, I  _ suppose _ I can help you out. Come on, Dexter, I've got your back."

Oh, he was so,  _ so _ screwed.

He just prayed that he wouldn't get Grif  _ fired _ by fucking up too much.

One could hope at least. 

* * *

Any other time he would have taken a moment to admire the way Grif looked in the traditional hula outfit. If this was Simmons in his own body, he would be absolutely flustered at the idea of being shirtless in front of a bunch of people, let alone for his job.

But Grif's darker skin tone doesn't really go as fiery red as his own paler skin does when he's embarrassed. His cheeks burn like hell though.

He loves the costume, from an outsider perspective it's wonderfully detailed and enamoring. But he wonders Grif's thought about all of this. 

Before today, he doubted if he would have ever been convinced that Grif would do something as bold and exhausting as dancing. Especially not  _ constantly _ since this seems like this is what his job entails.

But the fact of the matter is, Simmons doesn't know how to hula dance. And even if he did for whatever reason, he still wouldn't know the choreography for this specific routine.

He wanted to find that woman who had helped him before, but he never got a chance before it looked like the performance was gonna start.

And he didn't know what to do, panicking beyond all belief.

So Simmons did the only logical thing.

He  _ hid. _

For the whole day.

It was cowardly and sure to have some sort of consequences when Grif was back in his proper body. 

But what else was he supposed to do?! Get up on stage and make an absolute fool of himself- of Grif?! He didn't think so.

So he constantly moved around the center, not staying in one place for too long in fear that someone would pay a little too much attention to him and call him out.

At least he got to peer at the other sections of the park while doing so. While it was only a sample of what he really wanted to experience he knew that now was definitely not the time. But he couldn’t help the part of him that kept in mind that if he ever returned he would want to try some poi, after watching some get pounded in one of the buildings when he eventually passed by the Hawaiian segment of the center again.

So as to not seem out of place, he made sure to smile and keep his face friendly and inviting, instead of anxiety-ridden and panicking. 

But apparently, his luck was the shittiest thing in the whole world because as it reached seven o'clock a few of the other workers started to head towards the huge theater that he had passed upon first entering the center.

Not thinking anything of it, he almost stumbled when one of the workers came over to him and practically dragged him into their group, saying, "Where are you going, man? We got to get ready for the evening performance."

Evening  _ what? _

Oh no, oh no no  _ no. _

This was very much not good, since he couldn't find a good moment to sneak away from the group and then the group got larger and eventually he was  _ in the workers wings for the theater and now there was absolutely no way to get out of this oh God he didn't even know what was going on- _

"Hey," a hand grasped his shoulder firmly, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he noticed that it was the woman from earlier. "Dexter, are you ok?"

No, no Simmons was absolutely not ok.

"I-" he started, but stopped as he gasped for air. Had he been hyperventilating?

"Are you feeling ok?" she asked, worried. "You disappeared earlier today, and no one could find you. And now you're here, clearly freaking out. Why?"

"I'm-" he stumbled on what to say.  _ Call in sick. _ "I'm actually not- not feeling good? I've been feeling really- really nauseous and I think  _ I might pass out-" _

He wasn't even lying at this point, he really  _ did _ feel like he was gonna fall unconscious any second now.

"That's not good," the woman muttered. "Yeah, you're going to sit this performance out. If you're feeling nauseous now, I don't want to imagine how all the fire, heat, and smoke is gonna make you feel."

He blinked at the new information, after all, he didn't even know what performance was going to happen.

But he can't help but express his utter gratitude by saying, "Thank you."

She seems thrown but shakes it off, saying, "Of course, it's no problem. I won't even tell the higher-ups about your little game of hide and sneak today. I know how things have been... rather difficult for you and Kaikaina."

And that's when Simmons remembered that he had brought along Grif's little sister with him today and that he had no goddamn idea where she was now.

He thinks Grif would kick his ass if he somehow lost his sister, "Where's-"

"Kaikaina?" the woman cuts him off. "She's sitting in the usual area when she visits. You should join her today, rest for a while."

Right, that'd be the best thing to do. 

"And where... is that?" he ventures, hoping she doesn't find it suspicious in the slightest.

Her eyebrows knit together, but since she says, "You must be really out of it today," he figures that he's in the clear at the moment.

For the second time that day, she leads him to where he needs to be, a small secluded spot where Kai was already seated. The area didn't exactly have that good of a vantage point in consideration to see the stage, but from what he understands, Kai's not really supposed to be getting essentially free viewings of the performance, so this must have been part of the compromise. 

The show hadn't started yet, but as he glanced at the filled up stadium, he leaned towards Kai who was looking out expectedly towards the stage, asking, "What is this performance anyways?"

"Stroking out again, bro?" Kai asked. "It's called Hā: Breath of Life."

"What's it about," unafraid to ask since Kai assumed he was having another one of his 'episodes' that she was getting used to unknowingly. 

"There's this main guy, Mana and most of it's about his love for this chick named Lani, most of it’s mushy and gross with romance," she mimed barfing at the thought, even going so far as to make gagging noises. "But... it's nice."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, amused with her childish reaction to the love plot. 

"I like watching and trying to learn about our culture," she said, surprising him with the maturity of the statement. "The dances are fun, I'd love to do this one day. But I'm too young right now. And you don't seem to enjoy any of this, or at least, normal you doesn't."

"What makes you say that?" he asks, a frown growing on his face.

"You never talk about- about stories or anything interesting," she buries her face into her arms. "I know you know some stuff. From grandpa probably, but you never talk about him or what you know. That frustrates me because  _ I _ want to know too."

"Oh," he all he can say.

She doesn't say anything more, and soon enough the performance starts.

As someone who's never seen the show, Simmons is entirely enraptured with all the dancing, and lights, and music, and all the usage of fire. The storytelling direction is beautiful, and all the effects only enhance the experience. He's almost sad when it's all over with, wanting to have seen it again, maybe from a better angle, and maybe as himself. 

_ Grif would probably have been one of the dancers in the show. _

The intrusive thought has him blushing all over again, honestly, he doesn't even know where it came from!

With the performance over, the woman comes up the area to check on him and Kai, and he manages to overhear her name- it's Kalani- as she brings him back to the changing room so that he can put away his costume.

He thought that this would be the end of the day, and then he'd wake up as himself again, having left Grif an apology in his update.

But on the drive back, Kai speaks up, "Dex, can we go to the beach?"

"Now?" Simmons asks. It was getting pretty late. "Aren't you tired?"

"It's a Saturday," she argued. "I can stay up past my bedtime. Besides, it's not like we have to go to church in the morning tomorrow."

"Well," he started to say, thinking on it.

"We're on the North Shore anyway," she continued. "I just want to go to Waimea Beach. Please."

"Fine," he conceded. "Can you tell me the way there?"

She happily complied, and given her exuberance, he feels like this isn't something that Grif would have done.

But once he gets down to the beach and rests against the cool sand, he figures that maybe it didn't matter so much.

Kai is playing towards the shore, picking up shiny shells that she spots before tossing them back into the ocean.

"You know," she starts. "There's this area nearby where you can find some sea turtles. It's actually known for it, Turtle Bay Hilton."

"Really?" he perks up. He's always had a soft spot for aquatic animals, especially sea turtles, he even had a wooden charm necklace of one. He would love to see one of them in real life.

"Yeah," Kai nods. "But, it's kinda sad, because a lot of them are missing limbs and stuff because other animals try to eat them. They're still pretty though."

"Oh," and now he's thinking of dead sea turtles, completely depressing his mood.

Then, out of the blue, Kai looks back at him from where she stands half in the water, the blue of the waves highlighting her face, and she tells him in a whisper carried across the empty and silent beach sans the waves, "I've been doing my own research into things. I wanna learn so bad."

Simmons can tell she's not done.

"It's- it's actually funny," she chuckles heartlessly. "I've been reading about mana recently, but not- not Mana from the show, it's- it's this supernormal power. I don't really understand a lot about it."

Looking at him with sharp eyes, she says, "People or objects with mana can do magic sometimes, did you know that?"

No, he didn't.

"Do you think we have mana, Dex?" she asks. "Magic?"

"I don't know..." he truly didn't know what to say.

Kai doesn't say anything for a while, but after a pause or two, she starts to walk up the sandy shore, reaching the spot where he was seated.

"I'm ok with telling you all of this because Dex never remembers anything when you're here," she said, causing Simmons' heart to stop and his breath to catch in his throat. "But please, promise you won't tell him what I said? I think he'd get mad."

Simmons has a feeling that he wouldn't. That doesn't seem like something Grif would get mad about.

But when he gained control of his breathing, he looked up at the eyes of the frightened and scared little girl that he has somehow come to care about, and he extends his- really, Grif's- pinky finger, saying, "I promise."

The expression on Kai's face becomes lighter as she locks her pinky with his.

"It's a promise," she says, and Simmons nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be posted out tomorrow. This- this is a really long fic guys. A more detailed author's note will follow the end of the next chapter, but for right now all I'm gonna mention is that in a lot of the books I read (such as in the one about the history of the Polynesian Cultural Center), there were mentions of how a lot of the younger generations don't know about their culture- for obvious missionary/colonization reasons- and that one of the purposes of the center is to connect the younger people with their roots. So I feel like this would be a conflict for Kai, especially since this version of the Grif siblings are more involved in their island life.
> 
> Ok, till tomorrow, if you have anything you'd like to talk to me about, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have they woken up yet? Were they ever asleep to begin with? The lines are too blurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where a lot of the bullshittery I mentioned is. Also, I would absolutely recommend for those who have not seen this movie to do so whenever possible! The animation is simply gorgeous (the inner future animator in me near died and went to heaven from the visuals), the music is outstanding, and the story... well, is probably one of the best parts of the movie! I took so long writing this that I ended up hating it oops.
> 
> Anyhow moving on, my Beta doesn't love me- also she never finished the movie- and all mistakes are my own! I hope you all enjoy!

When he carries a slumbering Kai into the Grif household there's a woman he's never seen before passed out on the couch.

He can't make out any of her features in the dark, and even then her face is pressed against the pillow she's drooling on.

There are beer cans and bottles littered across the floor and tables. None of these were here when the two of them left this morning.

Rule number four burns at the forefront of his mind.

And part of him doesn't want to fall back asleep, doesn't want Grif to return back to his body, disorientated like they usually got, trying to figure out what happened the day before, now with the added bonus of who Simmons  _ thinks _ might be his mother.

He's spent enough time in Grif's body to hear  _ some _ of the snide and cruel whispers that he got just by association.

But it's not really his choice in the end whether he can stay or not.

It feels like he only just blinked, but when his eyes open again, he's back in his apartment.

He wants to wish Grif all the luck in the world.

* * *

Waking up to finding out that Simmons had broken one of the more  _ important _ rules he left him was anything but fun.

He scowled as he read the update entry that Simmons had left him. Great, hopefully, his coworker wasn't fucking with Simmons when she said that she'd actually vouch for him if the higher-ups did find out about his whole ditching work nonsense that Simmons had pulled.

Grif  _ tried _ to warn the other teen. He has no idea what Simmons was thinking.

But no matter how hard he tried to, he simply couldn't hold onto the anger he felt at the other man.

There had been some sort of a change recently, in how he felt about the whole switching bodies thing. At first, it was an annoyance, but now he didn't really mind it all that much.

After all, without it, he'd have never met Simmons- well, get as close to meeting him as could be defined by leaving notes for the other when they woke up.

Well, despite the fact that Simmons had left Grif with a mess to clean up, he had actually done something he thought that Simmons might appreciate.

Somehow, Grif had gotten Sarge to go on an outing with Simmons in a few days. He knew that the redhead would never have the courage to ask if the older man would take him somewhere, but he could tell that Simmons desperately wanted some sort of male role model in his life.

Although Grif wouldn't mind if  _ he _ was the one to actually get a chance to hang out with Sarge when the day came. As much as it literally pains him to admit, he also needed guidance from an adult too, and while Sarge was practically overbearing with his role as a manager the man cared.

Grif had seen it often enough as Simmons.

And there it was, his frown had returned.

He wasn't  _ actually _ making a connection to Sarge- he was just furthering Simmons' with the other man.

What Grif wouldn't do to be able to join the two of them in a few days, to both meet Simmons  _ finally _ face to face, but also get actually introduced to Sarge. He even found himself becoming fond of Donut and Caboose over time too, wanting to meet them as well, maybe even bringing along Tucker and Church too. But that just wasn't feasible in the slightest.

A pipe dream at best.

But he soon realized that the brief moment he had between waking up and reading the message was simple the calm, and when he hears Kai's bright, "Mama you're finally home!" that the storm is upon him sooner than he thought possible.

Racing to throw on some clothes, he slides into the hallway and sees the way Kai has launched herself into their mom's awaiting arms, with a loud laugh.

"Oh  _ there _ you are my darling daughter," his mom was caressing her cheeks with a slightly buzzed expression. "Oh, look how big you've grown, you're getting more and more beautiful every day."

While Kai smiles at the attention, Grif can only feel worried.

Had Simmons met his mom? He didn't mention it in the entry, so he wasn't sure, but he hoped to God that the answer was no.

In his panic, he didn't move from his position of just barely being in the living room, and that allows his mother to actually catch notice of him.

"Dexter, sweetie, is that you?" she set Kai down, approaching him. The closer she got to him, the more he wanted to just retreat back to his room for the rest of the day. "You've gotten so handsome while I was gone, look at you, you're all grown up now."

"Yeah," his nose crinkles in disgust at the smell of liquor on her breath. "That's kinda what happens when you're a kid."

"Mama, Mama, did you bring us back anything?" Kai beamed up at her.

The woman flapped her hand in a calming gesture towards the younger child, saying, "Does Mama ever fail to give you what you want, my darling flower?"

Yes. Every day that she's not there taking care of them. Every day that she is  _ there _ and  _ still _ not taking care of them.

She will always fail when it comes to being a parent, it's as true as saying that the sky was blue and that the sun was a giant flaming ball of gas.

And yet, their mother drags herself towards the giant purse she had set on the side of the couch, picking it up and scrounging through it to find one of the many 'gifts' she always brought back for them. Usually, they were cheap gifts sold in any of the ABC Stores meant for tourists.

Sometimes they were things that Grif would have to hide from Kai later to throw out, clearly one in some disgusting manner that he didn't want to be connected with his younger sister.

To Kai, she gifts a cheap flower hair clip, but of course, she loves it, because it was a gift from mom.

Kai races out of the room to go and put the clip on in the mirror, leaving Grif alone in the room with his mother.

He doesn't particularly care about the gifts, but the last time he snubbed the woman when she was being 'nice' she had thrown a bottle at him, and he had to tend to the cut that the glass had caused across his eye. He prayed then that it wouldn't scar, but he rarely gets what he wants. Even if he's done nothing wrong.

So he just stays in the room, not approaching the woman and waiting for her to give himself something meaningless.

"You're so old now, Dexter," she murmured, a sad tone to her voice. "I knew you'd look different when I came home again, but I didn't think you'd look so much like your grandfather did when he was younger."

His head went back as his eyes went wide, letting out a soft, "What?"

"I went to the storage shed where we put all his stuff," and she found what she was looking for, keeping it clasped in her hand tightly. "I wanted to find something... but instead all I saw was all these photo's and it made me very sad."

She looked up at him, and he could see the tears that hadn't yet fallen down. 

Maybe if she hadn't broken his trust so many times he could have found it in himself to feel sorry for her.

But the phantom throb of pain across his eye makes it impossible to even fake it.

"This used to belong to him," she reached out for his hand, and he let her take it. She lowered down a necklace with a wooden charm. "Oh, he loved our people so much. I didn't care for any of it, but I know you did when you were much younger. I remember you as a baby- there were photos of you with him, did you know that?"

He didn't, because he doesn't remember much from the earlier years of his childhood. Stress and age make things like memories blurry like that.

"It's a Honu, and if anyone needs luck and wisdom then it's you," she said with a smile. "I'm not a very good mother, am I, Dexter?"

He knew exactly what she was trying to do, and the part of him that didn't want to humor her was quieted by, "No you're- you're fine, mom."

But that wasn't enough because she shook her head, saying, "No, no, you hate me, I know you do."

Whatever she had taken this morning must have made her more sad than angry, because she started to bawl into her hands, her loud sobs dominating the quiet of the house. 

_ It's just a pipe dream, it's just a pipe dream, it's just a pipe dream- _

* * *

At first, Simmons thought that Grif was pulling his leg when he wrote down in his app that he managed to plan an outing with Sarge for him on Saturday. 

And yet, when he went to work later that day, Sarge had actually come up to him and let him know where exactly he would meet up with Simmons, and let him know that he would cover the expenses for the day since it was his treat.

Simmons was almost surprised that it was  _ Grif _ who suggested the place- the Museum of National History.

It was exactly the kind of thing that Simmons would love to do, so maybe Grif had chosen it out of courtesy for him. 

And sure, he's been to the museum before on school trips, it was practically a given- he's been to most of the popular tourist attractions in New York throughout his educational years, that's just how things were done.

But those trips were always filled with goofing off and corralling Donut and Caboose- he's been friends with them since elementary school and they remained in the district when it came time to go to middle and high school.

Simmons has always wanted to go to places like these with his parents, but they were always busy. And they never supported his interests anyway.

Yet, Saturday would be different. Sarge seemed supportive of his interests, and he'd get to hang out with the coolest adult he knew.

So, to say that the days passed by in a blur due to his excitement would be an understatement.

The day starts off great, he meets up with Sarge outside of the museum and together they went inside. It looked much the same as it did from his memories of being a younger kid. 

And now that he's here with an adult who'd let him ramble about things excitedly, walking at their own pace since it wasn't a school-sanctioned trip with a set schedule, he finds that he's experiencing the museum in a whole new way.

But as he made his way to the third floor, his excitement only grew, because as a kid he wasn't really aware of this particular exhibit, but now, after all, he's experienced with the swapping, he's electrified to truly pay attention to it.

Only to get stopped when he saw that the Margaret Mead Hall of Pacific Peoples was temporarily shut down for renovations. 

Well, that put a damper on his mood, but only slightly. He's probably already seen or will see most of the stuff there already.

Sarge must have noticed his soured disposition, because he asks him, "Something the matter, son?"

"Ah, it's nothing," he reassured. "I was just kinda excited for this part of the museum."

Looking at the sign, Sarge looks tired but from what Simmons could tell he wasn't trying to show it. 

"You interested in Polynesia?" he asked as they walked away from the closed down exhibit.

Nodding his head, Simmons said, "Yeah, I have a friend who lives in Hawai'i."

"Hawai'i you say?" and once again Simmons can't read Sarge's face to tell what he's feeling. "Never mind all that, what do you say about getting ice cream after we're done here?"

And like that he stands taller, a bright grin on his face, "Yes, please!" His parent's never had gone out for ice cream with him, always detesting the way it could melt and get messy quickly under the New York summer heat.

They still visit the entire museum, and when they exit Sarge leads the way to a small but quaint ice cream parlor, once again offering to pay for the expenses.

Not wanting to waste any of Sarge's money, he opts to have a simple chocolate ice cream- in a bowl instead of a cone. Sarge himself gets two scoops of strawberry in a waffle cone.

And there they sat in the nicely air-conditioned store, enjoying their ice cream, with Simmons hesitantly asking if they could do this again.

Today had been nice, nicer than any outing he's ever had with his dad. He'd love to have more of them.

"Sure," Sarge easily agrees. "How do you feel about visiting the Cradle of Aviation Museum?"

Excited at the prospect of visiting more museums with Sarge he immediately agrees.

They continue to chat about other topics, but swiftly Simmons' thoughts start to drift towards thoughts of Grif.

He had no idea how he would express his gratitude to his fellow teen. All of this was because Grif decided to meddle in the best way possible- Simmons felt like he was practically on cloud nine!

And he wanted to share this experience with Grif too, wanted to drag him excitedly through all these different exhibits, and since Grif has never been to New York  _ properly _ everything would be new to him. He wasn't sure if Grif would enjoy all the walking or learning, but surely being in Simmons company would make up for it.

Sarge is the one who breaks him out of his happy reverie by saying, "You thinking about this friend of yours?"

"Wh- what?" he flushed at the question. "Of- of course not! I- how'd you guess?"

Chuckling the older man, shook his head at Simmons' antics.

"I may be old, but I still remember what it was like to be a teenager," Sarge said, causing Simmons to squawk at the turn the conversation is going. "Especially as a teenager in love."

"I'm not- I don't love Grif!" he exclaimed.

"Sure you don't," Sarge pointed his cone at him. "That's why you're turning brighter than a farmer in the field on a hot summer day, right?"

Simmons shovels ice cream into his mouth instead of answering.

Sarge guffaws at the reaction, and when he calms down, he looks proud as he says, "You're a good kid, Richard. I'm glad you've found someone in your life that you want to be with."

Swallowing harshly, and totally not crying because of validation,  _ no way in hell, _ he manages to say, "Thank you, sir."

"I'd like to meet this kid someday," Sarge gruffs out, taking a straight-up bite out of his ice cream, with no  _ reaction _ at all. "I wanna make sure he isn't some dirtbag playin' with the feelings of my boy."

Ignoring how technically Sarge has already met Grif, Simmons' heart is filled with such immense joy, he stutters out a, "I- I actually like being called Simmons, sir. By my friends."

Sarge looks inquisitive but he doesn't say anything about it, nodding his head, in acknowledgment.

They finish their ice cream, and after returning to the front of the museum to part ways, Sarge calls out to him, saying, "Some fatherly advice, Simmons."

Attention already more than captured, Simmons listens aptly to what the other man might say next.

"Let this kid know about your feelings," Sarge said. "And do it as soon as possible. Love is fleeting, and I'd hate to see your heart crushed because you waited too long."

The thought of being forward to Grif about his feelings had his heart smashing against his rib cage, but he knew Sarge had a point. They still didn't know anything about this weird connection they had going on, and he doubts that they'd meet in person any time soon, he should really take his chance the next possible moment.

Well, there was something he could try that he hasn't done before...

Resolved, he nods firmly at Sarge saying, "I will, sir. Thank you for today, it was... it was really great."

"Think nothing of it, kid," Sarge responded, turning around to walk off in the other direction, raising his hand in goodbye. "See you at work, Simmons."

"See you at work," he says to the retreating man.

He stays a moment longer in front of the museum, and when it looks like there's not a lot of people present, he pulls out his phone and dials in a number he has seen so many times now.

Sure, it might be a very long-distance call, but the price would be worth paying if it meant that he'd bridge the gap that separated him and Grif outside of the body-swapping.

It rings just once before informing him that,  _ 'This number is no longer in service.' _

Pulling the phone away from his face, he marveled at that before attempting twice more. The same thing happened again and again. That number didn't exist anymore.

Maybe Grif had gotten a new phone or something. That was fine, he'd find out by the next swap anyway.

* * *

Weeks and weeks go by. And then it's months, and soon enough the end of the school year and the start of summer.

They never switched again.

* * *

Simmons was going to make a very, very stupid decision.

He was going to take money out of his parents' bank account, by a plane ticket to Hawai'i, and  _ find _ Grif himself.

Because he's worried that  _ something _ happened, and he'd rather die than spend the rest of his life wondering what the hell had happened to him.

Considering that it's summer, this may very well be his only chance to enact his plan.

There was some confusion at first with booking the ticket, having tried to get a plane to land in Honolulu specifically, but constantly getting redirected in his attempts. That was fine, would just mean more traveling on his part.

And as if by some miracle, his parents were out on a business trip to England, making this the first time he's ever been genuinely happy that their asses weren't around.

Packing his backpack with books and other useful items, his phone charge for one, he filled his suitcase with spare clothing and wads upon wads of cash that he had saved up. He envisioned that he'd have to take a lot of public transport, and he'd need money to buy food as well.

So on the day of the flight, he bought a cab to take him to the John F. Kennedy airport, and as he sat in the back of the car, he let out a breath of air.

He was really doing this. There was no going back from this point.

The flight would be about ten hours or so, and as much as he wanted to get some rest now, he wouldn't dare try to fall asleep without anyone with him in the back of a cab.

So he stayed upright and awake, going through the process of baggage check while his heart pounded dangerously in his chest, ridiculous thoughts like  _ 'what if they found a weapon in his suitcase, despite the fact that he didn't bring one, let alone own one' _ fill his head.

But he wasn't stopped, because of course he wasn't, not even with all the weird looks he got as an essentially unattended minor.

If anyone stopped him he'd probably burst into tears honestly. This was the most daring thing he's ever done in his life- just earlier this school year he was having meltdowns about missing a homework assignment due to Grif and yet here he was leaving the continent, going to a relatively unknown state with such a time difference that if he tried to call anyone from Hawai'i they'd probably be asleep!

No. Now wasn't the time for a freakout, he should just head to the waiting area for the Hawaiian Airlines and just wait.

It wasn't like life could throw him any more surprises.

* * *

He boarded the plane and gets comfortable in his seat. On the few times that his parents had let him join them in their travels, they had flown in first class. 

But he was already testing fate by stealing money from them, so he bought one of the cheaper seats that he could, and got comfortable in economy.

His suitcase is firmly in one of the storage compartments, and his backpack underneath his seat.

The plane on first glance is oddly designed, at least in his opinion. There are seven seats in total per row. Two to the left, one of them is a window seat, three in the middle, and the two again on the right, a window seat, of course, being present.

He's currently seated in the middle seat of the middle section. He's a bit irritated at the thought of having two strangers sit beside him, but beggars can't be choosers.

Simmons has one of his books open when he hears someone sit to the right of him, and can see from his peripheral someone placing a suitcase in the storage compartment above to his left.

"What're you reading there, Simmons," the man beside him asked, his voice instantly recognizable, causing Simmons to slam his book shut and whip his head to the side to look at him.

"Sarge?!" he asks, voice cracking. 

He was about to ask what the  _ hell _ Sarge was doing on the same flight as him, when the person to his left sits down and chimes in saying, "Simmons, I'm so glad to see you, buddy!"

Whipping around to his left, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees the cheeky grin on  _ Donut's _ face.

"Donut?! What- what are the two of you doing here?!" he asks, and he's almost convinced that he did fall asleep in the taxi because there's no way in hell that this is just a  _ coincidence. _

"We're coming along to make sure you don't get your kidneys stolen!" Donut said cheerfully.

"How'd you even know where I was going? How did you even find me?!" he drops his book to the floor, genuinely contemplating whether to strangle his friend or not.

"Well,  _ I _ noticed how depressed you've been these past few months, and like the good friend I am I went through your things to make sure everything was ok," Donut said as he buckled in his seat belt.

"You  _ snooped _ through my things?!" Simmons shrieks, but quiets down when he notices how some of the other passengers were looking at him.

"Only your phone and that was after Sarge told me about your boyfriend in Hawai'i- and don't think we're not gonna talk about this because I am  _ very _ disappointed that you didn't tell me immediately about your boy-toy," Donut tsks. "And when I saw that you booked a flight to Hawai'i, I ran straight to Sarge and he bought the two of us tickets."

Turning towards the older man, he asked desperately, "Why?"

Harrumphing, the man crossed his eyes and declared with his eyes closed, "I had to make sure you weren't going to walk into danger like a headless chicken. I told you that you could rely on me, and I meant it, son."

Donut leaned over and placed a hand on Simmons' arm, telling him sincerely, "We're here to help, Dick. We mean it."

Getting all choked up, he wonders for a moment how he got such a wonderful support system in his life.

Instead, he asks, "What about Caboose?"

"He's going to cover your shifts at the restaurant," Donut answered. "We got it cleared with Sarge so it's all good. In return, we have to come back with as many shiny and pretty rocks that we can manage to sneak out of the state."

That... well, that sounded like a very Caboose thing to do- act generously for something that makes him happy in return, no money no favors no nothing.

In his quiet wonderment, Sarge and Donut strike up a conversation, and Simmons wonders briefly if this was going to be a long flight.

* * *

Note to self: if there's ever a time where he's going to be on a flight with Donut again, under no circumstances is he to sit in the middle. The blond had gotten up at least fifty times to go to the bathroom during the whole flight, and Simmons could only thank God that he had booked the middle seat.

Overall, the flight itself was ok. Sure, it was long and his back started to ache very quickly, but it wasn't like he could just  _ drive _ to Hawai'i as he could with any other state.

The in-flight entertainment was about the same as any other airline, so he merely left the screen in front of him on the map showing the estimated arrival time and where they were during the flight. Then, he pulled out one of his books and his phone, plugging in some noise cancellation blocking headphones.

Besides him, Sarge was taking a nap, using the complimentary pillow to help make the seat more comfortable for his neck, whereas Donut had used his own money to watch one of the offered movies, content to without talking for the moment.

When the food came, Simmons picked at the meal, not really finding it in himself to attempt to eat at the moment. So he'd leave the main part of the meal for either Donut or Sarge to eat while he nibbled at the snack and drank from the water cup.

At some point, he had fallen asleep listening to the music from his phone, book slipping from his grasp, and only caught by Donut who would then later shake him awake when they were bringing in the breakfast meal.

Simmons was embarrassed to say that he wasn't expecting the random touch, and may or may not have shrieked a little upon waking up, getting the attention of the other passengers and concerned looks from the flight attendants. 

And now he wanted to jump out of the airplane from humiliation. Great. 

At least they finally arrived, it was time for him to start his search.

This whole thing would be worth it to finally get a chance to embrace Grif in person. Just a little bit longer.

* * *

Walking out of the airplane, carry on and suitcases in hand, they walked out of the airport and immediately searched for some sort of transport that would bring them to the nearest city.

While the temperature wasn't exactly cool inside of the terminal's, Simmons had long since adjusted to the heat and humidity of the air upon walking outside of the airport. Sarge also didn't seem too bothered, but Donut immediately started to fan himself with a pamphlet he had grabbed from one of the many stands.

"Where do we go now, Simmons?" Donut asked, shading his eyes with one hand as he squinted out towards the distance. 

"I... don't actually know," Simmons admitted, flushing in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?" Donut turned towards him. "This  _ friend _ of yours told you where he lived exactly, right?"

"Er... yes? Technically," he supplied. Truthfully, all he knew was that Grif lived in Honolulu, Hawai'i, and well, now he was in Hawai'i but he couldn't find the city on the map he was looking down at. 

Donut just stared at with an unamused expression on his face, and Simmons started to sweat furiously for reasons other than the heat.

Sarge was listening in to the conversation, but he was more focused on organizing transport with one of the taxi-like systems.

"How do we know if he even exists," Donut asked concerned.

"He does, I- I've seen pictures of him!" which was technically true, but judging by the look on Donut's face, that didn't seem to be enough to convince him. "Look, he told me about some places where he lived," more like he experienced them himself, "and I was planning on asking around anyway so what does it matter?"

Donut continued to stare at him- even narrowing his eyes in suspicion- before letting go of the expression in order to sigh and say, "Well, it's still a once in a lifetime experience nonetheless."

"And I mean, how hard can it be to find  _ one _ person on an island?" Simmons said, somewhat trying to convince himself that this would work.

A sharp whistle broke through their conversation, and they turned towards Sarge who was gesturing to the man beside him, calling out, "This fine mine is going to be driving us to a motel where we can get a room. We can leave our things there, minimizes the chance of getting robbed."

"No need to be so dramatic, Sarge," Donut complained, but extended the handle of his suitcase nonetheless and began walking towards the man nonetheless. 

Simmons stayed where he was for a moment longer staring out towards the rest of the island, crinkling the map in his hands.

Then he turned and joined the others.

* * *

_ Attempt Number One _ of trying to find Grif didn't go so well.

Try as he might, he could not find Honolulu  _ anywhere. _ Not on any maps of the island, not by any buses or trains. 

Donut begged him to stop and ask someone if they knew where to find it, but Simmons was not  _ that _ desperate yet. He could do this on his own!

Or so he thought until he eventually gave up and all three of them returned to the motel for the night.

_ Attempt Number Two _ went very much the same way. 

He figured, well, if he couldn't find Honolulu, maybe he could try finding some of the other places he knew of from his time in Grif's body. Figuring his best chance would be to search for Grif's high school, something he only recognized by sight not having known the name of it, and so went to every school on the island.

Needless to say, that didn't work out at all.  _ None _ of the high schools even resembled the one he went too.

And even then, a few hours were wasted when he was forced to take a break and hang out at the beach. He scowled the entire time, arms crossed as he followed around Donut who was looking for shells or rocks to bring back for Caboose.

They went back to the motel, another day without results, with only a couple of smooth stones and some desserts to snack on.

Simmons morosely bit into his taro pie as he realized that he would have to resort to the thing that he should have done in the beginning.

Ask for directions.

* * *

_ Attempt Number Three _ started out like it might have led to success.

Having everything packed for the day, the first thing they did was look around for someone who looked like they  _ might _ know their way around the island.

It just so happened that they picked one of the cashiers at one of those novelty gift stores nearby the motel.

While Donut perused the shelves and racks, humming happily as he pulled out some beach themed t-shirts, Simmons went up to the girl behind the counter nervous in the face of public confrontation.

"Ah, h-hello," he said, catching her attention from where she was tidying up her station. "I- uh- I was wondering if you knew where to find the Polynesian Cultural Center?"

Her neatly trimmed eyebrows raised at his question, and her lips parted slightly, eyes darting to and fro as if trying to see if he was serious. Then upon the realization that he was, she cleared her throat and said, "If you don't mind my asking, is there a reason why you'd like to know?"

"Ah, well, you see-" he stumbled, the meager amount of confidence that he had waning. "I have a friend who works there? And I wanted to... visit him?"

At his elaboration, she seemed much more relaxed and a smile graced her face instead, as she picked up a pen, "Oh, that makes much more sense. Here, I can mark it down and you give the address if you have a map on hand?"

"Oh, thank you!" he pulled out the map of the island and handed it over to her. Huh, maybe this asking for directions thing wasn't half bad.

"No problem," she responded, finishing up marking the map. "There you go, I hope you have a wonderful day!"

"Thank you again!" his spirit brightened, and he bounded over to Sarge and Donut exclaiming, "I got us directions!"

"Really? That's awesome!" Donut said, gaining a cheeky smile. "See, Simmons, this is why it's good to have social skills!"

"Whatever," he wasn't going to let the teasing get to him, his goal closer in sight than before. "Come on, let's go!"

They quickly hired a transportation car, got in and told the driver the address.

Simmons looked out the window, excited that he might get the chance to see Grif, and if not, then talk to someone there who knew where he lived or what his new number was.

But as they continued the drive, he didn't recognize any of their surroundings, and a pit began to grow in his stomach. 

Maybe he didn't recognize anything because he was driving that Saturday, eyes on the road and all. This would technically be the first time he was a passenger after all.

But as they got closer to the center, Simmons watched as construction signs passed by. Even the driver was getting confused, taking another look at the address he put into his GPS, asking, "Are you sure this is where you want to go?"

Sarge and Donut were silent, not knowing the answer, leaving Simmons to say, "Y-yes, this is where the lady told me to go."

Shrugging his shoulders, the driver didn't make any more comment beyond, "We'll be there in a few minutes."

And sure enough, they gradually slowed down until making a complete stop.

In front of a construction site.

This... this was most certainly  _ not _ the Polynesian Cultural Center. So either that lady was trying to pull one over on him or- 

He didn't know what else it could be.

But they got out of the vehicle anyhow, paying the man for his service, and watched as his car disappeared into the distance.

"Is he a construction worker?" Donut asked with wide eyes, as he looked at the people moving around carrying various equipment or wooden planks.

"No!" he exclaimed. "This- this doesn't look like anything I saw- from his pictures! This isn't what it looks like, I don't..."

He felt so hopeless. What had gone wrong this time? He asked for directions, that should have solved everything!

No. He wouldn't let something like this stop him. He asked for help once today already, he could do it again.

He looked around, tried to find someone who didn't look busy or  _ intimidating _ when his eyes landed on a woman watching the construction going on much the same as them.

Resolved, he moved away from his companions and walked towards her.

Once close enough, he tapped her shoulder, and began, "Excuse me, miss..."

Whatever words he was going to say were stolen from him when she turned to face him. He  _ knew _ her, she was the woman who helped him out that day- who smiled fondly at Kai and was worried when he as Grif proclaimed feeling ill.

There she was, Kalani, just standing around and watching the construction of what- if he was led to believe- was the Polynesian Cultural Center.

"Yes?" she asked, a slight frown marring her face. But now that she wasn't just some random stranger, Simmons took in her appearance- the bags under her melancholy eyes and the way she held herself together like that was the only thing stopping her from falling apart.

"I- sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you knew what this is supposed to be?" he asked when all he wanted to know was if she knew where Grif was.

But he couldn't just ask that, in her eyes, she had no idea who he was.

She closed her eyes, and the corners of her lips turned, the action making them wobble as if she was holding back a sob, before opening her eyes and answering, "This- this is where they're relocating the Polynesian Cultural Center."

So that cashier hadn't lied to him. But- why?

Behind him, he can hear Sarge and Donut approaching, but he ignores them in favor of asking, "Oh! I didn't know that they moved it."

"Yeah," she tucked some hair behind her ear from where it had gotten loose from her braid. "It's... it's going to take years before they can remake it the same way."

Not wanting to pry into this topic and scare her away, he instead asked, "Sorry, I just have one more question, do you know where I can find Honolulu?"

Her eyes widened, and she became distressed, looking away from him as she said, "Honolulu... sorry kid, you're on the wrong island."

"Wrong island, huh?" he tilted his head towards where he was keeping his map. "I thought- I thought Honolulu was the capital of Hawai'i?"

"It is," she let out a shaky breath. "Was."

Before she could ask what she meant by that, she faced him once more to say, "The right island you're looking for is O'ahu, not Hawai'i."

Besides him Sarge lets out a quiet gasp, causing Donut to turn towards him confused, but all Simmons can think is about how much he was such an idiot.

Of course! That's why he couldn't find Grif or anything familiar! He was on the wrong island this whole time!

"That's great! Is there some way we can get there," he turns towards Sarge, but the older man is looking at him in sympathy. "I- what's wrong Sarge?"

"Son, do you really not know?" the older man shook his head.

"Know what?" but Sarge doesn't answer him, and he looks back at Kalani, but she only looks like she's on the verge of tears. "What am I not getting?"

Sharing a look with Sarge, the woman looks at him and says, "It's- I have a captain's license and a boat. I can take you there."

Normally he'd be ecstatic. After all, she just offered to take him to the right island- the one that Grif was on.

But he's not an idiot. He can read the room. 

He can tell when something's wrong.

* * *

"This is as far as I'm willing to go," Kalani announced, letting her boat drift of the coastline.

No one responded to her, and Simmons has a feeling that she wasn't expecting one given that her eyes didn't even look at the island.

Or what remained of it anyway.

Various types of igneous rocks and  _ volcanic glass _ covered the entirety of streets and what was left untouched were burned and buried buildings covered in soot tainting it black.

Faint traces of smoke wafted into the sky further inland.

And this was just from the  _ coast. _

"Simmons, this can't possibly be right," Donut exclaimed in a whispered horror. "Your friend must've been lying or- there's no way-"

"No, I saw it! I- with my own two eyes!" this couldn't be possible.

"Son," Sarge put a hand on his shoulder. "Whoever you were talking to must have been messing with you."

"No!" how to explain this- he didn't meet Grif over some sort of dating website or anything like that- he  _ was _ Grif! Lived his life, was in his body- you can't just fake that!

Not knowing how to break it to him, Sarge decided to just say it how it was, ripping it off like a band-aid, unknowingly shattering Simmons' entire world as he said, "O'ahu was destroyed  _ three years ago." _

Shaking his head, he just repeated, "No no- that's not-  _ no." _

Then in an outburst of panic, he exclaimed, "I- I need to search for him!"

"Absolutely not," here Kalani whipped around. "This is a  _ massive _ burial ground, and the Gods were angry enough at us. I refuse to disturb their spirits!"

At seeing his expression, the anger drizzled out of her and her flame dimmed, as she amended, "Look, I get it. I don't know how you missed this, and maybe your friend really lived here. But I lost-" she choked on a sob. "I lost a lot of people three years ago, ok? Please, please don't make me disturb their graves, they deserve to  _ rest." _

"Let's just go back," Donut whimpers. 

"I-" he's so confused. "No, it's- I have messages from him I swear I do, from a few months ago!"

Pulling out his phone, he opens the app that they used to share, the one that had just been his for a few months. But as he goes to the folder he had created for Grif, he watches in horror as the entries that until this very moment had remained intact and untouched glitched out, the words rapidly flipping into unknown characters before just deleting themselves and then the note itself.

And entry after entry after  _ entry _ disappeared as if nothing ever happened at all.

And there he stared in shock as his phone displayed,  _ 'This folder is empty.' _

Walking up to the distressed woman, Sarge told her, "Just take us back, please."

Starting up the engines again, Kalani starts to bring them back to Hawai'i.

* * *

The first thing they do when they get back to Hawai'i is research on what exactly happened.

It was unexpected, one article says. In the days leading up to the eruption, there was no indication in the  _ slightest _ that Diamond Head would go from being extinct to suddenly reactive.

Impossible even, most researchers state. Unprecedented. It's what made the destruction that much more prominent. 

_ No one _ was expecting it. And nearly  _ no one _ survived.

There must have been some build-up, is the theory. It's likely that too much concentrated pressure had been building up until it literally  _ burst _ through the side of the mountain, not coming from the top as expected from traditional volcanoes. The lava had spewed out continuously, burning whatever was in its path. But what really killed everyone, they suspect, was the heat that boiled them alive, if the volcanic glass and ash didn't asphyxiate them first.

The few lucky ones were people who were near the docks or already on boats, they managed to get away at the instant the volcano erupted.

Not many people were near the docks. Fewer managed to get onto boats, and fewer still were on the boats.

It happened at night, so many people simply died in their sleep, a saving grace one reporter claims.

A lot of people claimed that because there was no warning, it must be an indication that the gods were angry at them. They must have done something  _ wrong. _

So they all died for it. For this mistake that they didn't even realize they made.

There was a memorial made two years after the disaster, for the modern-day Pompeii as some assholes were calling it, and even though he felt dead on his feet, Simmons dragged himself there.

The large and gleaming monument was inscribed with the names of those who were reported as dead, there was no section for some who could be missing, there'd be no way to tell. The island had remained undisturbed, no one daring to go back to it.

He raced all the way down, eyes skimming at the last names, his heart stopping somewhat at the sight of  _ 'Leonard L. Church' _ and no doubt if he went towards the end he'd find  _ 'Lavernius Tucker' _ inscribed as well.

But he was looking for confirmation of their death's he was looking for-

_ There. _

Horrifying in being, he felt like he couldn't breathe, feet stuck firmly onto the ground.

_ Dexter Grif _ followed by  _ Kaikaina Grif. _

He couldn't help it, his knees collapsed under him, slamming against the earth.

It- no. There's no way this was possible. He- he didn't imagine it, that's not possible-

But that's the only truth, the only rational thing that could make sense.

Sarge and Donut drag him away and back to the motel. 

* * *

He's nursing a warm cup of tea in his hands, as Donut hums pleased at the shells and rocks he found the day before all laid out onto the table.

"I think Caboose is going to love these," he proclaims, breaking the silence.

It's ok, Simmons already realizes what happened.

He must have seen the news reports years ago, might have seen a movie that was filmed there, but never did he see anything in reality- none of the sights and locations that he thought he did.

And in his loneliness, the continual disappointment of never having his parents around, the inability to feel like Donut and Caboose were  _ truly _ his friends, he must have made the whole thing up. Imagined himself switching bodies with some random name he probably heard on the news after the disaster when in actuality he was probably blanking out due to stress.

"Maybe we can stop at a store and buy some souvenirs?" Donut tried to get a response out of him. "Maybe a few key chains- hey! I just noticed, that necklace you wear, it reminds me of some of the designs I've seen in a few shops!"

That manages to get a rise out of him, and he looks down at the necklace he's always worn, hidden underneath his shirt.

It must have moved up during this whole crazy day. 

But the sight of it makes him smile, and a hand goes up to fiddle with it, "Oh, yeah. That's- that's actually pretty funny."

"Where'd you get it from anyways?" Donut asked, pleased that he was finally getting a reply.

"A fri-" but he stopped, something troubling coming to mind. "I- I actually don't remember."

_ 'Come on, Simmons. You're just joking, right' _

He snapped upright, shocked at the unbidden memory. He didn't even recognize the voice, not fully- so who...?

"Is something wrong?" Donut asks, concerned about his mental state. So many shocks in one day...

"No, everything's fine," Simmons reassures, a plan hatching in his mind. "I think I'm gonna head in early."

"Oh, ok," Donut blinked. "I'm gonna stay awake for a little while longer I think. I'll join you in bed in a few."

He nodded at him, moving towards the only bed in the room. Simmons was ok with him and Donut sharing it, having become desensitized to it by now after- after everything, and Sarge opted to rest on the couch the room provided.

A stupid plan was forming in his head. A very, very stupid plan.

But he just seems to be full of them nowadays.

* * *

While the two of them were asleep, Simmons left a note explaining where he was going and why.

He was going to find proof that everything- the body-switching, knowing Grif despite never meeting him,  _ all _ of it- had actually happened.

And for that, he took a stack of cash and found the first person willing to take him back to O'ahu. 

And with no one there to try and stop him, he jumped overboard, content with swimming to the island himself.

He felt terrible about it- absolutely horrified by what he was doing and how disrespectful he was acting.

But he'd rather damn his soul to Hell a thousand times over if it meant that he could get some closure.

Or  _ fix things. _

He didn't doubt that the captain of the ship would leave instead of going after him, which left him pulling himself ashore, dripping wet and ignoring the salt of the water against his skin and clothes.

Comfort could be ignored, he had a mission.

He was going to search the  _ entire _ island if he had too. 

Even with the distorted and warped landscape, he was confident he could make sense of whatever buildings remained upright, map clenched tightly in his hands.

His first plan of action was to head to Diamond Head itself, go as high as he possibly could and try to see if the vantage point would do anything to help him.

Truthfully, he didn't know if  _ anything _ he did would work. He just had to try.

With the roads all a mess he'd have to travel by foot and travel some more when he eventually did get to the mountain.

He refused to look down or to the sides, he kept his face in the map or straight ahead, head tilted upwards to avoid seeing something scarring.

If he stumbled, he didn't look down to see what he had tripped over, only let his heart beat faster and mutter an apology whether it was deserved or not.

It was a long way to Diamond Head.

* * *

Walking up the incline, he's surprised to find that the tunneled entrance is left near intact, from his side at the very least.

Clenching his map tightly, he walks on the road without fear of incoming vehicles. He was the only one alive on the island. The road is cracked, but not too damage that he'd need to find some other way to walk, with grass growing between the fissures on both the road and the sidewalk.

It's dark, but the light from the entrance is enough to keep him going, for the moment, unable to see the end.

But when he reaches what  _ should _ have been the tunnel exit, all he saw was rubble blocking his path.

_ "No," _ he whispered. Dammit, what was he supposed to do now? He could turn back, but that would just make this whole walk worthless.

Taking out his phone, he turns on the flashlight and shines it on the blockade.

There had to be something, some sort of give- there! Towards the top, there was a small opening.

Rushing towards it, he stumbles up the bigger chunks of rock, hand going up to grip anything to propel him forwards. 

Sliding his phone into his backpack, he reached both hands into the opening, and pulled himself upward and through the crack. Unfortunately, his backpack prevented him from making it through, so he lowered himself and took it off.

He grabbed some things that he thought would be important: his phone, a pen, and his map, placing them in his jean pockets. It was ok to leave the bag as is, he'd have to come back this way anyhow.

And with that limitation gone, he slipped through the opening, contorting his body much like a weasel so he could make it through.

He's shocked when he manages it, gasping out harshly due to the pain it had caused in his chest.

Simmons reaches up to wipe the sweat from off of his brow, noting the change in temperature. Debating in his mind, he came to the conclusion to take off the maroon sweater he had been wearing in favor of rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Hopefully, the heat would be a bit more bearable, but it was still a long way to go.

Carefully climbing down the other side's rubble, he noticed how the center of the caldera was roughly traverse-able. Whether or not the hiking path to the top was ok was something different entirely.

Walking through the empty hiking park is eerie, but thankfully he wasn't worried about stumbling into something that he would rather not. The park closed early in the evening after all, and the eruption occurred at night.

He's walking up the incline and the closer he gets to the actual hiking trail, the more worried he becomes. And just like that, it's as he feared.

The trail had cracked and crumbled due to the explosion, distorted much beyond what he would have thought. But he wasn't going to let that stop him.

It just meant he'd have to do a lot more leaping than he thought.

He kept going, further and further up the mountain. As he did so he was able to see where the simmering smoke was coming from, a broken part of the mountain to the side. So it was true, it erupted from the side.

He only stopped to take a swig from his water bottle, trying to conserve what little resources he had. Simmons kept moving after each break.

The more he traveled the path, the worse it got- having to enter a tunneled part of the trail relying only on the bar to the side, using it as his guide as inched further up. His stamina was also steadily decreasing as well, his legs burning with each step he forced himself to take.

So there were more frequent breaks, sitting down until the fire in his muscles relaxed and he could keep going forward.

The worst part of the climb was when he was very near the top, almost finished.

There were two paths- but it was more like one path. To his left, he could see a much more gentle climb, and he figured that this must have been the path that people took when climbing down. It was the obvious choice for someone who was inexperienced with hiking.

The only problem being that the bottom half of the stairs to the top were completely gone, and he didn't trust his abilities to scale upwards.

Which left... the other path.

Returning the other way he came, he looked up at the staircase and gulped nervously.

It was a very, very  _ sharp incline. _ It almost looked like a straight vertical ladder, had it not been tilted just a tad.

But it was the only way up, and he couldn't exactly see anything from where he stood now.

Grabbing firmly onto the handles, he put one foot on the first step and began his ascent.

The pressure and pull of gravity caused him to lean backward during the climb, and his grip began to relax as he became light-headed. It was a physical struggle to keep going up, and when his hand reached up to adjust his position part of the handle  _ came off. _

Panicked, he almost let go entirely, and he doubts if he could recover from a fall at this height with  _ no _ emergency services available. But he manages to reach out and grab the parts that aren't unstable just in time, pulling himself to the stairs as the metal groaned and shook.

Once sure that it wouldn't collapse on him, only then did he resume his climb, warier of where he grabbed.

When he finally lifted himself onto the flat ground again he nearly passed out from exertion, only the shakiness of his arms keeping him from collapsing.

Simmons had to quite literally drag himself further down the trail, getting far away from the staircase before he let himself collapse, intent on taking a break longer than his other ones.

At least that looked like the last hurdle to go through. That'd be a relief.

Groaning in pain, he gets up, back arched as he hunches forward, and drags himself the rest of the way.

Sure enough, he can see the very top of the trail, the half-collapsed stone formations, remnants of a base from long ago.

One last climb, and then he can look around, see if he can see anything important.

Pulling himself up the steps, the heat getting to him slightly, he reaches the very top of the hiking trail, the top of the mountain, and he braces himself against the rails, hissing as they burned lightly against his hands. 

He looks out towards the sea, dark towards the island but the further it went the clearer and brighter and more  _ colorful _ it got. Turning around towards the island, he notes that it is anything but that.

He can't see anything of note- nothing at all. It all looks the same from here- burnt, destroyed, and charred.

This was pointless.

His eyes started to tear up, and he grit his teeth, frustrated at it all.

He was never going to find something that could prove Grif  _ actually existed- _ that they had the connection that they did.

It was all  _ pointless- _

Something catches his eyes, a silver tin hidden in a nook on the spinal column below.

Curious on what it could be, and having literally no other options, he climbs back down and grabs at it from where it was wedged between the cracks of the stone.

He wiggles it back and forth to pull it out, pulling it out with dejected fascination.

It was probably something some stupid visitor placed there, his thumb goes under the lid to pop it open and he wouldn't be surprised if-

Staring him in the face is a photo of Grif and Kai, their bright smiling faces looking at the camera as Kai wears a bright yellow bathing suit, and Grif looking awkwardly at the camera his sister was clearly holding.

But this photo-

_ He was the one in this photo. _

At first he thinks, no, that's not possible, but then he sees Tucker and Church arguing in the background of it, and it immediately sends him back to that day, of when Kai had begged him to let her go to the beach, knowing that Grif was more amicable when 'not himself' and that the other teen's two friends decided to come along.

He wouldn't even recognize this photo if they hadn't switched bodies.

Which meant that it was true,  _ all _ of it was  _ true. _

And that meant that Grif was dead. Well and truly  _ dead. _

That was the permission his tears needed before they came crashing down, the sobs in the back of his threat coming out with no filter.

His knees collapse, and he's aching all over his body, but it's his  _ heart _ that hurts most of all. The tin slips from his hands, and he's holding onto the photo as tight as possible, his hand coming up to claw at his chest as if he could physically rip his heart from his body if only it would make it  _ stop hurting. _

Fingers clasping at anything they could get a hold on, he grips tightly at his necklace, and he just screams out all his frustrations, broken up only by gasps for air as he continues to choke on his emotions.

"Please," he whispers helplessly. "I- I just want one more  _ chance." _

And silence answers him. Silence and the ever-growing burning feeling between his fingers, the pain intensifying as if he were touching a hot iron pan.

Hissing in pain, he pulls back his hand from his neck, but the charm follows along with him, coming closer to his face, and as it rests against his palm he can feel it's pulse, like a heartbeat, thrumming so hard with an untold power until the edges of it crack and Simmons can feel a rush of pure energy cascading over him as the ground rising towards him, his cheek colliding harshly against the ground.

And as the world becomes blurry and white, he can hear the whisper of,  _ 'People or objects with mana can do magic sometimes, did you know that?' _ come surging through his thoughts.

* * *

He is aware of a man whittling against the driftwood, carving and carving until he got the pattern, the shape, all of it right. And when he is done, he makes a hole to slip thread through and he makes a necklace, proud of his accomplishment, immediately putting it on and hardly taking it off.

And so Simmons watches and follows this man with his necklace, as he raises his daughter, as he fights with her and argues, until the very moment where he's holding his grandson in his hands, whatever ire at her forgiven just for this gift and chance.

The man visits as often as he is allowed, talking to the boy, but Simmons can hear none of this, he can only watch.

But there are more fights and eventually, the man is dead and everything goes dark, causing Simmons to panic, but it doesn't last because now the daughter, much older and pathetic, is holding onto the necklace looking at it before shoving it to the bottom of her purse and she's off.

It's a week before she returns to her home, and Simmons would recognize it anywhere, has practically lived there all but physically, and she drinks and drinks and drinks until she passes out on the couch.

And from what he can see, he sees the form of Grif approach, carrying Kai, but it soon transformed into the image of Simmons carrying Kai, and so he knows this day- this Saturday.

He watches as Kai greets her mother with love, Grif with trepidation, until at last the necklace is handed over to him, with empty words spoken from the mother to him, and Simmons doesn't need to hear them to know that.

But Grif runs from the room, and Simmons is forced to follow, forced to watch as he sees Grif pull money out of an emergency fund, haphazardly shoving clothing into a simple backpack with Kai begging him about something, likely his actions if anything else.

And Simmons follows as Grif heads to the airport, as he buys a ticket to  _ New York _ and watches him board, watches as the flight speeds up for him, the hours blurring into seconds.

And he watches as Grif seems uncertain in the new environment, much like how Simmons felt when he first arrived in Hawai'i, but Grif manages to keep going forward, and he seems so confused on where to go, but he's undoubtedly searching for someone. 

Simmons doesn't dare to think that he's looking for him.

He goes to the restaurant, but no one has even heard of Simmons, because he wouldn't apply for two more years. And he goes to the school, but it's a Saturday, and no one is there.

There's a limit to the places that Grif knows in New York, and he has just about exhausted most of them.

And there's this frustration on his face, that it's like Simmons is looking in a mirror from a few days ago. That must have been how  _ he _ looked searching the wrong island with no hope to find the one person that mattered to him most.

So Grif is preparing to leave, getting on the nearest public transport, and just so happens to get on the same bus as Simmons. 

But he's absolutely horrified because the Simmons there is younger than the him that Grif knows, but  _ Grif _ himself doesn't know that. So he rushes forward towards him, a grin on his face, and somehow Simmons is allowed to listen on this long-forgotten memory.

"Simmons, you would not believe how long it took me to find you!" Grif sits in the seat next to him, staring expectedly at him for some sort of reaction- the type of excited reaction that Simmons wanted to see from Grif when he started his search for him.

But to this Simmons, he doesn't know this stranger, and gives him a confused look, asking, "How do you know my name?"

Grif falters, obviously puzzled by the reaction, so he asks, "It's me. Grif?"

"That doesn't really answer my question," the younger Simmons mumbles, shying away from the older teen.

Opening his mouth and closing it again, Grif flounders on what to say, settling for, "Come on, Simmons. You're just joking, right?"

The look he receives is all the rejection that Grif needs to jerk backward in emotional Grif. The bus rolls to a stop and Simmons is absolutely sure that this isn't where he meant to get off, but the embarrassment he's facing must be all the encouragement he needs to  _ leave. _

Struggling to figure out what to do, this young Simmons gets up off his seat and debates what to do, reaching out for him asking, "Wait, who are you?!"

Hands snaking up to his neck, Grif yanks off the necklace and tosses it at him, hurrying off the bus as he calls out,  _ "Grif!" _

And Simmons doesn't see what happens to Grif, doesn't even know if he makes it home ok, because now the necklace is in his past versions hands. He experiences life frightening fast, witnesses all over again their swapping, in a new light now that he knows what he does.

Just as he reaches the peak of Diamond Head all over again, the light becomes blinding and overwhelming,  _ overpowering all of his senses until- _

* * *

He wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath after all that he witnessed. Simmons expects to find himself back on the mountain, but the sound of that broken air conditioner makes him realize where exactly he is.

Looking down at his hands, he starts to chuckle wetly, grabbing Grif's body into a tight hug, not knowing how exactly this was possible, but so, so goddamn  _ grateful for it. _

He's full-on sobbing by the time that Kai peaks into the room asking, "Dex, what's-  _ eh?!" _

"Kaikaina," he sobs opening his arms wide, as he stumbles out of the bed reaching for her.

Before she can escape he grabs her into a tight hug, holding her close, and finding himself unable to contain his emotions in the slightest.

"You're back," she says eyeing his from where her face is squished against his chest. "But- why are you so sad?"

Pulling her back, he takes in her appearance- healthy and  _ alive- _ and figures since she practically knows about the swapping anyways he can tell her the truth.

Hands firmly on her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eyes as he says, "Listen, my real name is Simmons, and I just came back from the future to save all of your lives because a volcano is going to erupt and kill you all."

She stares at him, not comprehending and merely blinking, before saying slowly, "You can't be serious."

"I am absolutely one hundred percent being truthful right now," he lets her go to race around the room, grabbing things that would be useful, and throwing on a new shirt, muffling his voice as he says, "We don't have much time- I have no idea when it's going to erupt."

"You're not joking," she whispered. "You've- you've got to be, Dex just- playing some sort of joke on me!"

Knowing that he would need to convince her, lest she be a hindrance in trying to save her life, he kneels down to her and says, "That day, when I let you visit the beach, you told me that you were researching things, do you remember that?"

She froze under his gaze, but nods her head, lips pressed tightly together.

"And you asked me if you thought we could do magic," he captures her gaze. "And I'm here to tell you,  _ yes. _ I wouldn't lie to you about this, and I'm not Grif, because you know what I did that day?"

He extends his pinky towards her, and her eyes widen at the action.

"I made you a promise that I wouldn't tell, and I didn't," hadn't had the chance too actually. "And I'm willing to make another promise to you, right here, right now. I promise I'm going to do everything in my power to save your life, and as many other people's lives as I can, ok?"

She stares at his extended pinky, before clasping it tightly with her own, saying, "Ok, I'm in." 

* * *

"So what's the plan," Kai asked as soon as they were out of the house, getting into the passenger seat of the car, buckling her seat only when Simmons glared at her.

"Well, firstly," he pulled out Grif's phone and handed it to her. "We're gonna need backup."

She seemed to understand exactly what he meant as she began scrolling through the contacts before selecting one, putting it on speaker and letting it ring until an annoyed, "Hello?" was heard.

"Hi, Church!" Kai chirped. "Dex wanted me to call you to ask if you were able to meet up with us at the abandoned toy store."

"What? Why," he demanded. 

"It's important," Simmons said, leaning over slightly so that his voice could be heard.

"Turn here," Kai muttered, knowing that Simmons didn't know where they were heading.

"Important  _ how?" _ Church asked suspiciously, the receiver distorting his voice slightly. "You know what? I don't give enough shits to care, I'll meet you at the fucking store."

"Also text Tucker!" Kai said loudly.

"Shut the fuck up, and  _ fine," _ to which Church hung up without another word.

"You know, Grif's friends aren't as nice as mine," Simmons muttered.

"That's because you're a little bitch," Kai said, becoming distracted by one of the apps on Grif's phone, and Simmons began to wonder if perhaps Grif didn't give her his phone for this exact reason.

"Firstly, watch your fucking language you're like two," he scowled. "Secondly, I'm just making an observation, ok?"

Kai shrugged, before looking up briefly to say, "Take a left here."

Turning on his turn signal, he followed her directions, before something popped into his head and he had to ask, "How'd you know I wasn't Grif anyhow?"

"You drive differently than him," she said. "Much more careful, he's more lenient on following the laws.

"And now I know never to get into a car with him, thanks," Simmons didn't even want to imagine how the other man drove.

"Drive a few more blocks and then you'll be there," Kai pointed out.

Ahead there was the store, decrepit and old, with the washed-out 'For Sale' sign speaking for the state of the store's ownership.

Parking the car, the two of them waited inside of it while waiting for Grif's friends. Simmons idly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, nervous but knowing that so long as it was light outside, they would be fine.

They had the whole day to get the island evacuated as best they could.

"They're here!" Kai announced, the chime of Grif's phone sounding throughout the car, and she quickly unbuckled her seat belt to jump out of the car to race to the two teens.

Simmons followed after her, trying not to let his nervousness affect his pace.

"Now then, what's the reason for this little get together," Church scowled, crossing his arms.

"I must admit I'm curious," Tucker said, running a hand through his hair. "I was in the middle of my beauty sleep, ya know?"

"It's gonna take a lot more than sleep to make you desirable, Cucker," Kai said, surprising Simmons with how she mocked the older teen.

"Still as feral as always I see," Tucker glared at the younger girl, to which Kai stuck a tongue out at him. "If you invited us here so that your sister can bully me, then I'll just go-"

"No!" he blurted out, worried that he'd be left near all alone for his plan. "I need your guys' help."

Sobering up, Church dropped his arms, his eyebrows furrowing as he asked, "What sort of help?"

"Hypothetically, if a volcano were to erupt, how would you evacuate the island?" Simmons probed.

"Impossible," Church argued. "On both accounts. There are no active volcanoes on this island, and it's impossible to account for every person living here."

Wanting to pull his hair out, Simmons stressed, "Come on, you're  _ smart, _ there's gotta be some way."

Looking between the two, Tucker piped up, "Well, there aren't many tourists here at the moment."

Blinking at the new information, he looked away from Church to him, asking, "What? Why?"

Nodding, he revealed, "A lot of the tourists are visiting the main island instead. Apparently, there's some volcanic activity going on  _ there, _ my mom was complaining about it."

"Ok, just because there are fewer visitors than normal doesn't make the theoretical any less impossible to enact," Church butted in. "Something on that scale just wouldn't be possible between the three of us."

"Four of us," Kai scowled.

"Gremlins don't count," Church said without looking at her.

Pacing, Simmons racked his mind on what he could possibly do. 

"What if..." he started. "We somehow managed to send out an emergency evacuation message?"

Church opened his mouth to dismiss it, but thought for a moment, and relented, "That'd probably be your best bet. But that still leaves open the  _ means _ of evacuation."

"Maybe whoever's at the airport can just board the planes and get out that way," Tucker said. "But for the majority? I think maybe if they could manage to get on any of the boats they could drive safely away from the island."

"There are also a few bunkers that people can probably hide in until officials can come to help," Church tacked on, no longer thinking the question impossible. "All of that combined could probably save the most amount of people. Saving everyone just isn't going to happen."

It left a somewhat sour taste in his mouth, but the memorial stone that popped in his mind would be much more bearable if smaller with much fewer names.

It wasn't desirable, but he'd take it.

"Perfect," he said, gaining the two other teen's attention. "So that's exactly what we're gonna do."

"What?!" they yelled together before Church pointed at him furiously demanding, "You said that it was a  _ hypothetical- _ and it is- so what the  _ hell _ are you talking about?!"

"Listen, I know it sounds impossible, but right now there's a build-up of pressure growing in the sides of Diamond Head, and tonight it's going to  _ burst _ killing almost  _ everyone _ on this island," Simmons explained. "Including the two of you."

Jaws dropped in shock, Church shook his head, and a hand reaching up to his head as he accusingly said, "You're insane!"

Tucker, on the other hand, was quiet, before saying, "Maybe it's possible."

"What?!" Church turned to him. "Oh hell, don't tell me you caught his fucking insanity."

Raising his hands in a placating manner, he said, "Look, I know you're Mister Science Guy, but..." he trailed off staring at Simmons, "I think it's safe to say that stranger things have happened."

Following his line of sight, Church also stared at Simmons, eyes darting between his friends before saying, "Fucking hell,  _ fine. _ We'll help you, but just know that all of this is probably illegal,  _ and _ will get us labeled as terrorists if nothing happens in the end."

"Just say I forced you too," Simmons said, knowing that if anything, they wouldn't face any sort of legal charges when they ended up saving the majority. "Do you have an idea on how we can enact this plan?"

"I can probably hack the cell towers and force the evacuation message through," Church looked pained as he said this. "It'd be better if we could get my hands on the siren warning system- that'd make it more authentic- but that's out of my capabilities."

"The message will have to do for now," Simmons nodded, storing that bit of information into the back of his mind.

"I can talk to my mom about coercing all of the boats at the docks and piers into allowing people on them in the advent of an emergency evacuation," Tucker said. "And she can make sure that it spreads everywhere on the island."

"Do that first," Church said. "The more forewarning they have, the more prepared they'll be when I send out the message."

"This could actually work," Simmons sighed in relief.

"When's the eruption supposed to happen," Church asked. "Because all of this? It's going to take hours."

Looking up at the sky, he noticed how high the sun was, so he looked at the other teen and answered, "At night, so long as that sun is still in the sky we're good, but I'd rather we not wait until the last possible second to start the evacuation."

"What about me?" Kai piped up. "What can I do to help?"

"You..." he trailed off, not knowing what she can do to help exactly. "I want you to stick with Tucker."

"What?! But I thought I was going to be helping you!" she cried out. 

"Listen, Tucker has a lot of ground to cover, and the man hands he has helping him, the better," he reasoned, but knowing that that wasn't the true reason at all.

"Ugh, fine," she spat, glaring up at the older teen, with Tucker looking none too happy himself.

"So let's get to it," Simmons said, exuding confidence now that they had a plan. "Let's meet back up here in a few hours, whenever you've finished your task Tucker so that we're all on the same page."

"What are you going to be doing?" Tucker asked, moving closer to Kai.

Knowing that it would be uncharacteristic of Grif to say, but not wanting to seem like a slacker in this plan, he answered honestly, "I'm going to see if I can activate the siren's."

Raising his eyebrows, Church sarcastically responded, "Good luck with that."

"Yeah," he muttered, eyeing the car. He'd need to find the right systems for what he was aiming to do.

* * *

He's had absolutely no such luck with his plan, and he had to return to the meetup spot dejectedly. He just didn't have the money or time to get the things that normally would have been readily available to him back home.

Hopefully, the other's would have better results than him.

"All the captains know," Tucker said upon his joining the group. "They're not happy and think my mom was mostly joking, but when the time comes they should be prepared."

"Oh, thank God," he breathed out, before turning towards Church.

"The message is all ready to be sent, I managed to get into the right servers to send it to everyone's phone," Church supplied. "I don't know how long I'll be able to keep the signal going if the military will have anything to say about it."

Dammit, and now he really wished he had managed to figure out a way to get access to the sirens.

"Send it in thirty minutes," Simmons supplied. "I don't want to waste any more time."

"You know people are going to panic, right?" Church said, a stern look on his face. "Sure, my message mentions to evacuate, but that's going to block the highway's, and people are probably going to get trampled if they're scared enough."

"So long as we can save as many people as we can, that's fine with me," Simmons retorted.

Shrugging, Church didn't say anything more.

Kai, however, pulled against the hem of his shirt, and he looked at her curiously, but she only gestured that he bend down.

Upon doing so, she leaned close to him and whispered, "When I was gone, I thought of something."

"What?" he asked, thinking that she was talking about the evacuation plans.

"If you're here," she continued to whisper. "Where's Grif?"

And like that his heart stuttered to a stop. Snapping up, he looked in the general direction of Diamond Head.

Could- could it be possible that Grif was in  _ his _ body right now?

If that were the case...

"I have to go," he announced in a rush.

"Huh?" Church looked confused. "Where the hell could you possibly have to go  _ now?" _

"I have to go to Diamond Head," the worry creeping further and further into his heart.

"Why? You already took us there yesterday!" Tucker complained, and the image of the hidden tin popped into his head. "Besides, it's going to close soon anyway, so there's no need to worry about too many people being there."

Shaking his head, knowing that they wouldn't understand, he said, "I just  _ need _ to go there, continue with the plan.  _ Thirty minutes _ remember?"

He turned to rush to the car, but stopped and got close to Tucker instead, leaning forward to whisper, "If this doesn't work, I want you to take Kai, and anyone else that's willing to go, and get on any boat and just  _ leave." _

_ There was a reason he wanted Kai to tag along with Tucker. _

"What about you?" he said in a hushed tone, a furious cadence to his words.

He wanted to say to just leave without him, but that wouldn't be fair. This was  _ Grif's _ body, and just because he was in control of it didn't mean it gave him the right to kill him like that. If he wanted to be selfish, he'd include Grif too.

"I'll find you guys," he promised. 

Satisfied with that confirmation, Tucker nodded in understanding.

With that cleared up, he went to his car, starting it up, and deciding that maybe the situation called for him to emulate Grif for once.

He may have broken a few traffic laws in his hurry.

* * *

Waking up for Grif is... weird to say the least because there's something hard pressing against the side of his face.

Groaning in pain, he rises, hands firmly beneath him, and as he opens his eyes further he's able to see that he's in Simmons body, but not his apartment.

"What..." he muttered staring down at the dirt beneath his hands, looking up and recognizing the structures. "Why... is Simmons in Diamond Head?"

Getting up further, placing one knee on the ground to support himself, he hisses in pain as the muscles in his legs throb.

What the fuck?

Relying on the stone to get up, he stumbles slightly once standing, and he has no idea what Simmons has done to his poor body before Grif started to inhabit it.

And he has no idea how Simmons got to O'ahu anyways.

Reaching up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, he notes the beyond dirtied white shirt and the dirt that had managed to get under the nerd's nails. Why the hell would he be this grimy from just a simple hike?

Walking forward, he notices the lack of sound and becoming unnerved looks out into the distance.

And promptly  _ collapses. _ Knees colliding harshly against the trail, adding an extra layer to his pain.

What...

What had  _ happened? _

* * *

Making it just before the park closed, he parked his car with no care for keeping it between the lines, hurrying through the entrance tunnel, sticking to the sidewalk, with only occasionally going on the road when the leaving visitors in front of him were moving a little too slow.

Most everyone was leaving, and he wouldn't be surprised if he was stopped from going up the trail, but he hurried forward and left no opportunity for someone to stop him and ask just what all the rush was for.

Since the trail wasn't as destroyed as when he had made the initial climb, he had not as many problems going up it.

Much like before, his body ached with the exertion, but he didn't allow himself nearly as many breaks as the first time.

Because he Grif really  _ was _ up there somehow, if whatever had brought his soul to this time had also brought his  _ body _ then he'd have to make sure the other was ok.

Part of him was relieved that the park was near closed, as the thinner parts of the trail were empty, and he was the only one on this part of the mountain.

Getting closer to the top, and choosing to take the more gentle path when confronted with that fucking staircase again, he took in a deep breath and called out,  _ "GRIF!" _

* * *

As his thoughts turned into a whirlwind of catastrophe, it's the sound of his name getting called out that breaks him out of his grief.

It... it almost sounded like-

"Simmons?!" he calls out, rising to his feet even as he almost toppled over. He couldn't see anyone near the trail, and considering the state of it, he figured that anyone else would be easy to spot.

Heading down the slope, he called out,  _ "SIMMONS?!" _

* * *

He can hear himself, hear his voice call out for him, and that makes him pick up his speed.

He's rushing up the empty staircase, hand gracing lightly against the rail, as he calls out,  _ "GRIF!" _

* * *

Not seeing Simmons but hearing his own voice makes him drag himself forward as quickly as he can manage.

He's stumbling down the staircase, hand gripping tightly against the rail in case he slips and falls, calling out,  _ "SIMMONS." _

* * *

Their hands, both on the rail, pass by each other, ghosting through but managing to touch.

* * *

The clink of wood against metal has him stopping in confusion, and he closes his eyes briefly before finding himself facing down the staircase instead of up.

He looks down at his hands, and find that they're his own, so he turns to look up, and sees Grif staring down at him.

"Simmons," Grif said breathlessly.

Smiling up at him he closes the distance between them, saying, "Nice to finally meet you face to face."

"How the hell did you even make it all the way up here," Grif breathed out, looking in horror over the destroyed landscape. "The trail's completely ruined."

Simmons couldn't help it, he laughed, head leaning back as he covered his eyes with his hands.

After everything he's endured, just to get to this one point, it's- it's unbelievable!

How did he indeed.

"I just had to get to you," he said when he calmed down. Looking at the cracked wooden sea turtle, he lifted it over his head and gestured to it from where he hung from his hand. "I can't believe you tried to give this to me before I even knew you."

"What the hell does that mean?" Grif asked.

"It means you're three years in the past from my time, idiot," he chuckled, not able to find it in himself to get angry.

"No way," he said incredulously. "So that means that this whole time-"

"We were time-traveling," he shook his head. "Yeah."

"I was going to say that I'm actually four years older than you," Grif said. "But that too."

Weakly scowling, he bitched, "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"Hey! I'm just saying," he held up his hands. "And besides, you're the one into a twenty-one year old."

"You're fucking dead in my time so actually you're  _ not _ twenty-one," he scowled before letting fall at the dark look that passed Grif's face. "Hey, I managed to get this far, I'm doing my best to make sure the timeline isn't as fucking miserable."

"How?" Grif asked.

"I- I have this whole plan, ask Church and Tucker about it-" the phone in Grif's pocket buzzed, so Simmons amended, "Or you can just see for yourself."

Pulling out the phone, Grif reads the message, before looking up at him and asking, "Do you think this is actually going to work?"

"I have to try," he said. But from his memories, the hopelessness he felt at figuring out that Grif had almost died and the way he had so easily convinced himself that he didn't exist struck a chord in his mind.

Quickly pulling out his pen, he claimed, "Let's write our names on each other's hands! That way when we return to our timelines, we will know that this actually happened! And so we don't forget."

"Are you sure about this?" Grif asked.

"Yeah," Simmons nodded, before being reminded of the necklace he held in his hands. "Oh! And I should return this to you too."

"What? No, I gave that to you," Grif refused. "It's yours."

But Simmons felt bad at keeping it, knowing that it was made by Grif's grandfather, so he tried again, "But it's important to you, I insist you take it."

"No way dude," Grif shook his head.

"Fine," Simmons faux relented. "Here, give me your hand, I'll write my name."

Grif extended his palm, and so he wrote his message. Curling Grif's hand into a fist so that he couldn't see it, he handed the pen over to him saying, "Now it's your turn."

Extending the palm that didn't hold the necklace, Grif leaned over to begin writing his name, and in doing so, Simmons quickly tossed the necklace of Grif's head, surprising the teen, and as gravity pulled it down he opened his mouth to complain-

Before the pen dropped to the ground, leaving Simmons all alone on the staircase.

Shocked at what had just occurred, he looked around trying to see if Grif was somewhere else, but he was well and truly alone.

And it occurred to him, that it must have been the necklace that was keeping them tethered to the same time.

But Grif hadn't even gotten a chance to write his name, and with panic, Simmons tried to reassure himself that it was fine!

He still remembered, he came all this way for Grif.  _ Grif. _ No one else but Grif, Grif, Grif, G-

Feeling the fleeting memory he reached down to grab the pen and quickly write the name on his palm, but when the tip was just above his hand he found that he couldn't remember.

"I can't remember his name," he whispered in horror. "His name... what was his  _ name?" _

He had come here, to this island for someone, but he couldn't remember  _ who. _

Simmons was left alone and confused, uncertain on why he was where he was, and just who that longing feeling in his heart was for.

* * *

Grif is confused, at first, when Simmons tricks him into leaning forward so that he can give him back the necklace.

Because the next thing that he knew was that he was all alone again, and the distance didn't seem as macabre. Didn't look anything like it would in the future.

Which meant that somehow whatever had tethered the two of them together was gone now, and it was all up to him to save the day. Despite not knowing anything about whatever plan Simmons had concocted.

That also meant that he would have to race  _ down _ the hiking trail to somehow meet up with the others.

Well, at least it was always faster going downhill than upwards. And he might as well hurry now, unlike Simmons, he had no idea  _ when _ shit would hit the fan.

His phone buzzed again, and pulling it out as he raced down the trail, he saw the message that his friends had created, detailing,  _ 'Emergency Alert: Nuclear Explosion Imminent To Hawai'i. Seek Immediate Shelter In Designated Bunkers. Seek Voyage On Marine Vessels. This Is Not A Drill.' _

A big fat lie, but effective in evacuating the island he supposed. A real missile threat probably wouldn't have instructions to get on ships for safety.

Grif stumbled occasionally down the path but kept pushing forward even if it hurt. The sooner he got the hell out of here the safer he'd be.

But he was still far away from the cities, and he wasn't sure  _ how _ Simmons got up here, he could only hope that he had used his car.

Exiting the tunnel and looking towards the small parking space, he's thankful to see his car parked haphazardly. Part of him didn't expect Simmons to park the way he did, even in the face of a crisis, but perhaps he had thought little of him. 

Getting into the car and forgoing the seat belt, he just hopes that in the wake of the message the highways weren't blocked. He'd hate to part ways with his car so soon, but if he couldn't get past all the traffic, he'd be forced to abandon the car.

No way in hell was he going to die because a few idiots forgot the rules of the road in the face of imminent death.

For the most part, he got lucky, but that was only because he stayed off of the main roads, trying to take as many secluded pathways as possible. But the closer he got to the residential area the more panic he saw from people obviously confused about what to do and where to go.

Oh, this was just going to go to hell in a handbasket, wasn't it?

Figuring, fuck it, he pulled his car over and got out of it, checking the glove compartment for anything of value, taking what he felt important and shoving it deep within his pockets before bidding goodbye to his car.

It was a piece of shit but it did more for him than most adults. It would be missed. Until he got a new moderately used one. But that's life.

Realizing that he really was taking  _ far _ too long morning his car, he pulled out his phone to call Tucker, who picked up on the first ring, foregoing any sort of greeting by asking, "Where are you?"

"Made back from the mountain?" Tucker asked, a relieved tone to his voice. "Hurry to the docks, we figured that there's nothing more we could do so we're just waiting here."

"Who's we?" he asked, making his way in the direction of the pier. 

"Right now, my mom and dad, uh, Kai- like you asked, and a few people who listened to the message," here his voice trailed off. "It... it doesn't look like a lot of people are following the instructions."

"What of Church?" he asked, getting closer to the water, seeing the ships that were docked.

"Yeah... there's one problem," his friend said. "You're not gonna like it."

"What could possibly have happened?" he dodged a massive amount of panicking people, groaning as he noticed they were struggling to find shelter indoors,  _ where they absolutely would not be saved from the fucking volcanic glass. _

"Uh... well," Tucker trailed off, but he didn't need to say anything, because in the background he could hear Church cursing loudly.

"Hey!" Tucker yelled before a new voice came onto the phone, voice breathless as Church said, "Fuck! Carolina found out. She stopped my signal and is planning on reneging the message."

"What?!" now of all times? Why couldn't Church's cousin be some sort of shop owner? Instead, the one woman with connections to the island's  _ military presence _ just  _ had _ to be related to his friend.

"She's fucking  _ furious _ man," Church stressed, voice going up an octave. "She thinks we're playing some sort of joke, we need you over here as soon as fucking possible man because if she says that the message was a mistake it'll be like we're crying wolf if we try again."

"I'm on my way," Grif reassured, trying his best to rush towards his friend's location, cursing his shitty luck.

Dammit, even without knowing the full plan, he was sure that this isn't what was meant to happen when Sim- 

He froze where he stood, stopping his haste all together.

Grif... Grif couldn't remember his name.

But in stopping so suddenly, and being near the water already, he was unexpectedly pushed off the dock by a running group of people.

Sputtering upon breaking the surface, he coughed out water, reaching up to the dock to pull himself up.

He only managed to get up halfway when he lays his hand flat against the wooden planks, dripping wet, struggling to remember  _ his _ name.

Looking at his hand, he is reminded of the message that lay written on it, the only answer that he needed on to the name that he's missing.

But as he uncurls his fist, it isn't the smudged and blurry ink, ruined by the water he was pushed into, that causes him to chuckle wetly, tears replacing the saltwater near his eyes.

"You fucking idiot," Grif mutters, closing his fist again. "How the hell am I supposed to remember your name with this?"

Pushing himself fully onto the harbor, he doesn't look down to see the imprint the wet ink made onto the wood boards, the message of  _ 'I love you' _ temporarily printed onto the world other than his palm.

* * *

He makes it just in the nick of time to see Carolina try to drag Church away from the others, and from the looks of it, she just might beat his ass as soon as they were out of public sight.

"What the hell were you thinking," she hissed, pulling him towards her car. "Do you have any  _ idea _ what kind of cause you caused?"

"Carolina you don't understand, we were just fucking around," Church argued, struggling against her grip. "Be mad at me all you want, but please don't take me away from here!"

He was obviously panicking, and Grif could see it from where he was approaching them, and if he had to wager a guess, Church was probably thinking about how he was being dragged to his death, forced to remain on the island by his cousin.

Knowing that he had to intervene, he called out, "Carolina!  _ Stop!" _

She looked up at him and scowled, dropping Church's arm who immediately ran back to Tucker's side, staring at the two of them like they would break out into a fistfight any second.

"I always knew you were a bad influence on my cousin," she hissed. "But I allowed it because he enjoyed your friendship, but now I find out you're involving him in your little act of terrorism?"

"Ok, first off, fuck you," he narrowed his eyes at her at the obvious dig at his upbringing. "Secondly, we're trying to  _ save _ everyone's life, so a little thank you would be appreciated."

"Is that what you're calling this," she raised an eyebrow in incredulous fury. "This mass panic?"

"Yeah, and it'd work a little better if you helped us out and got those lovely little siren's going off so that it seems more real," he closed the distance between them, looking up at her. 

"I'm supposed to do that, why?" she didn't seem convinced in the slightest. "You have no evidence to back up that everyone's in danger."

"You know what? You're right, I don't have evidence," he conceded. "Let the government send out a message saying that there was a mistake. But when there's an eruption, and thousands of people die, I hope you're one of the ones that  _ survive _ somehow. Even better, why don't you join just us on a little trip on one of these boats? Witness everything yourself so you can see just how  _ close _ you were to letting Church die."

Her eyes widened, but he didn't give her a chance to retort as he went for the kill, "Or better yet, you can be the one to call in the threat, get those siren's going to save as many lives as possible. Because there's going to be an explosion, and right now the survivor count is all on  _ you." _

Grif took a step back, mind whirring at what he just said, a part of him worried to Carolina wouldn't listen to a word he said- worried that she might even deck him for the lack of respect he regarded her with.

But there's a war going on inside her mind, and the way her face flashes through a series of emotions, before settling on resigned, she looks towards Church and the way he stayed near everyone else.

Sighing, she pointed a finger at his chest, saying, "Fine. I'll play along. But if you're really fucking with us, I could lose my job for this. And I'll make sure you're behind bars before that happens."

"Well then it's a good thing I'm not fucking with you," he said, relieved beyond all belief.

Carolina stepped away from the group, pulling out her phone to contact  _ someone _ on the Hawai'i Emergency Management Agency.

Kai ran up to him and hugged him from behind, the force of that action causing him to stumble forward a bit.

"I was so worried for you," she murmured. "I'm glad you're back."

Unable to respond, being emotionally and physically exhausted, he only patted her arm, muttering, "When'd I ever leave?"

It wasn't before long before the civil defense outdoor warning sirens were sounded, and not much longer until an additional emergency message was sent out, this time by the proper officials.

Considering that they were already at the docks, Tucker's mom led them to where they owned a relatively small boat, having a capacity to hold their whole group but not much more, and soon they were driving far away from the island, staying at a safe distance.

Eventually, other ships and boats joined them, forming a near perimeter around the island. And there they stayed in weight, with only their small group anticipating the eruption.

* * *

It is the middle of the night, and most of the people drifting on the sea have fallen asleep to the lull of the waves.

And yet, they all wake up at the booming sound of the side of the mountain exploding. 

Most of the captains, not expecting it, start-up their vessels to move  _ further _ away from the island, worried about being in close proximity to the volcanic glass or pyroclastic flows.

People are chattering and wondering aloud how close they were to death, confused about whether it was a missile that had caused the explosion or set off the build-up of pressure.

But on one boat, in particular, the passengers stare at the destruction in real-time, sparing glances back at the only person still asleep, wondering  _ how? _

How could he have known?

* * *

Every so often, Simmons wakes up crying.

He's not sure why. He has a moderately ok life, he  _ enjoys _ his job as a museum curator.

But he feels like he's missing something, he just doesn't know what. Ever since he took that trip to Hawai'i all those years ago.

For some reason, after the unexpected eruption that almost decimated an entire population, miraculously all the citizens had had some sort of fair warning of the destruction. It had been impossible to predict, and yet  _ somehow _ someone had managed it.

Most of the media claimed that it was the action of Colonel Carolina Church and a few anonymous individuals, who had managed to persuade an evacuation of the island hours before the actual disaster, that made it possible to save as many lives as they did.

And Simmons had been enraptured by this, reading all the related articles like he needed them to breathe.

Something had made him drawn to it all, and it had influenced his decision to become a historian, and then later, a museum curator.

Learning about all the important sites that were lost, somehow it had brought him to tears. He had no connection to the island if anything he didn't really know why he had gone on that trip so long ago.

But it wasn't something to dwell on too much, he had to meet with Donut and Caboose in an hour.

Getting dressed, pausing when he went to slip on something that didn't quite exist, he left his apartment, locking it before walking out onto the streets of New York.

As he got on the subway, he passed by someone he thought was familiar, but the other man had gotten lost in the crowd before he could think much of it.

* * *

"We really gotta hook you up with someone," Donut sighed into his coffee before taking a sip.

His eye twitched at the insinuation, so he simply growled out, "I don't need anyone in my life."

"That's not what you said a few years ago," his friend pointed out. "You really went on a trip for a long-distance booty call and you  _ know _ it."

"What?! That's-  _ no!" _ he rebutted. "That trip was purely for research purposes and you know it!"

Shrugging, Donut smiled coyly, "You're only saying that because the guy ghosted you."

"Whatever," he muttered, glaring into his cup. Looking up at Caboose who was busy texting meticulously on his phone, he asked Donut, "What's got him all worked up?"

"Oh! He met this person at an engineering job," Donut perked up with the gossip. "What was his name again, Caboose?"

"Church!" Caboose chirped, and Simmons isn't sure why the name makes his heart twinge in remembrance. "He said that we can meet up this weekend! Look, he even used some smiley faces!"

He showed them his phone, with a message about meeting up so that the other man could get  _ reimbursed _ for the damages Caboose caused, and Simmons cleared his throat, saying, "Actually Caboose those are-"

"An indication that he wants to be your friend," Donut cut him off. "I hope you have a wonderful weekend, unlike me."

"What's going on in your life?" Simmons asked.

"I have this babysitting job to go to," Donut shrugged. "I love Lavernius to death and back, but his child is an absolute  _ monster _ of a kid- I swear he acts out just to cause me trouble!"

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he said, ignoring that feeling again.

Donut gave him an unimpressed stare before pointing up to his hair saying, "I'm going grey, Simmons.  _ Grey." _

"And yet you don't look a day over twenty-five," he quipped, prepared for the playful smack that Donut gave him. "I'd love to stay and chat more, but I have to go check up on the museum, make sure that everything's ok."

Saying their goodbyes, he walked out of the cafe and walked to the train station, knowing that the commute would be different than the one he took to get here.

As he entered the station and bought his ticket, he went down to the right platform and waited for the train to appear. 

Way on the other side of the tracks, there was that same man who felt familiar to him, but he was looking down at his phone so he couldn't get a good look at him.

Thinking not much of it, when his train arrived he waited for those disembarking to leave before getting on.

This day was filled with tons of deja vu it seemed, as he watched a young teen girl leave the train, looking out before calling out to the man across the tracks, scolding him for being on the wrong platform.

The door closed before he could hear any more of that conversation.

* * *

Another day at the museum as usual and Simmons was on his way home, taking a bus to get to the train station when he looked up and saw that same man  _ again _ lounging at an outdoor restaurant.

Except this time they made eye contact, and he felt his eyes widen as the man's own did.

He felt like he knew this person, he didn't know how having never seen the man before in his life, but there was something about him-

But the bus started to move soon after, causing Simmons to stumble to his feet wanting to ask the man to stop the bus, but given the withering look the driver gave him from the rearview mirror, he collapsed back into his seat, his anxiety getting the best of him.

He road along the bus until the next stop, getting out and hurrying towards the place where he had seen the man. 

But the man wasn't there anymore, and that should have signaled that he should give up his search, but he felt this pulling in his soul that wanted him to continue, a pull that pointed him in the right direction. 

And so, he followed, rushing past other pedestrians, getting yelled at for his pushing and haste, running around trying to listen to his instincts.

He passed by so many monuments and sights, things that he had seen a thousand times over his whole life, stopping for a moment and taking a precursory glance over the crowd before moving on, not finding the man.

His search eventually took him to the Brooklyn Bridge, and needing to catch a break from all his running, he walked calmly down the walkway, stepping out of the way of bicyclists and tourists taking pictures of the grand structure.

It was he got towards the middle of the structure that he crossed paths with the man again, coming from the other direction of the bridge, and they hadn't quite noticed each other yet. 

Eventually, they did glance up and make eye contact again, but they continued to walk past, a lump forming in Simmons' throat.

He wanted to stop this stranger and talk to him, but he could easily be seen as some sort of creep and he wasn't even sure if this other guy felt the same thing that he did, there was no indication-

They were moving farther apart, and Simmons tried his best to gather his will, but he didn't have to as the other man stopped and called out, "Sorry, but do I know you from somewhere? You seem so familiar..."

Turning around and smiling in relief at an opportunity not passed by, and every so often, Simmons finds himself crying like he was in this moment.

He chuckled before saying, "I thought it was just me honestly."

The man approached him, closing the distance between the two, smiling at him like he was the thing that he was searching for his whole life.

And in hindsight, maybe in the future as they retell this story, it really was quite funny how they spoke up at the same time to ask the same question.

"And your name is...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, I did my very best to keep the same mechanics as were used in Kimi No Na Wa, while also following the plot while also keeping it a bit fresh, ya know? A lot of this is based on my own experiences of when I visited O'ahu (which was exactly a year ago now, funnily enough), my experiences of living in New York, and a collection I have on Hawaiian myths and legends. I also got references from the Polynesian Cultural Center's website, and a book that my family bought/got while visiting, for more specific details since I don't remember a lot from when I visited (which was honestly my _favorite_ part of the trip because of how beautiful the choreography was for the evening performance, and it very much was a learning experience to see all the different traditions for all the Polynesian cultures). I did my very best to be as respectful as possible, and if you see anything you need to put out to me to fix or alter, please tell me so as I'll do my best!
> 
> And as this is a fic heavily influenced, and referencing of the Hawaiian culture, I find it only fitting to bring attention to the protests to protect Mauna Kea, which is sacred to the indigenous Hawaiians, from having the TMT built on it and if you're able to support their cause in any way possible I urge you to do so. I've linked [here](https://geneticdrifting.tumblr.com/post/186472696288/plans-to-build-a-massive-telescope-on-sacred) a post that talks more about what's going on, that also provides a link to a support fund.
> 
> If you'd like to chat with me, or if you have center questions about some of the creative decisions made, you can find me on either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


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